


The Bar on Aegis Avenue

by NightMereBear



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Sylvain Jose Gautier/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Bartender Felix, Bartender Sylvain, F/M, Music, Singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightMereBear/pseuds/NightMereBear
Summary: The first time Annette went to Rodrigue's, a quiet bar in the heart of downtown, she had expected tasty beverages and a cozy atmosphere. What she hadn’t expected was Felix Fraldarius, the surly, sharp-tongued bartender with an unexpected interest in music. With university entrance exams looming, Annette knows she cannot afford to lose her focus. Yet the more she studies at Rodrigue’s, the more it seems she might have stumbled upon an interest of her own… musical and otherwise.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 186
Kudos: 209





	1. In Which Annette Meets Felix

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I had this idea floating around in my head for awhile. I don't expect this to be the longest fic, a handful of chapters tops. I don't currently have it timed out perfectly so until I make an actual, solid outline, the chapter amount will remain at ? First attempt at a Felannie AU. Hope you all enjoy! :)

The bar on Aegis Avenue was called Rodrigue’s. It was a cozy establishment with an aging piano nestled in the far corner of the room. The walls were lined with artwork and instruments that were too old to work properly, the faint smell of incense wafting from somewhere behind the counter.

Annette loved it immediately.

She stood in the doorframe, her backpack bulging from the number of textbooks she had managed to cram inside. Those already seated within cast her brief, disinterested looks while the bartender himself didn’t acknowledge her at all. _So much for customer service,_ Annette thought to herself, though she stepped inside anyway. She slid onto one of the numerous barstools, setting her bag on the floor and trying to ignore the fact that her toes barely grazed the metal supports.

A moment later, the bartender made his way over. He looked to be around her age with dark hair swept into a messy bun at the back of his head. His shirt collar was unbuttoned and he had rolled his sleeves past his elbows in a way Annette found casually attractive.

It was just a shame he looked so irritated. 

“Hello!” she said brightly, trying for a smile.

“ID?” he grunted in response.

Annette blinked.

“Oh, right,” she said, diving for her backpack. “Just a second.”

Her wallet had been the first thing she had thrown into her bag, which meant it was currently buried under every textbook she had thrown in thereafter. Annette could feel her face heating up as she set tome after tome on the counter, the bartender’s fingers performing an impatient dance across the wood. At last she pulled the little purse triumphantly from the depths, ignoring the way the young man raised his eyebrows at the cartoon cakes dancing across its surface.

“ID…ID…” she mumbled to herself, thumbing through her wallet’s contents and wishing she couldn’t feel the bartender’s eyes burning a hole in her head. He made no effort to hide the beleaguered sigh that issued from his lips. “Ta-dah!” she exclaimed at last, producing the small card and proffering it to him. He gave her a flat look before plucking the ID from her fingers and giving it an excessively scrutinizing once over. Annette flushed and began returning the mountain of books to her bag.

“…What can I get you?” the young man asked, sliding her ID back across the counter.

“Um…” Annette trailed off, her eyes drifting to the name tag pinned to his shirt.

“You _have_ been in a bar before, right?” the bartender—Felix—inquired. Annette glowered at him.

“Yes.” Her response was defensive. Of course she had been in a bar before! She was just more comfortable in coffee shops. _Significantly_ more comfortable. “Do you have cider?”

“…We do.”

Annette watched as Felix pushed off the counter and grabbed a small glass, placing it beneath one of the taps. Was he this short with all of his customers or was it just her? Annette frowned as he set her beverage on the bar.

“Did you want to start a tab?”

His voice was almost robotic, as though he had asked this question a thousand times before. Which he probably had, Annette realized, feeling suddenly foolish.

“No thanks! This should be enough,” she responded, rummaging in her wallet and trying to appear like she knew exactly which pocket she had thrown her debit card into. Felix sighed again and Annette felt her cheeks heat.

One belated payment later, the bartender went back to assisting other customers, leaving Annette to her work. She opened her aerospace engineering text, popped in her earbuds, and readied her pen over a blank sheet of notebook paper. University entrance exams were coming up and she hadn’t a moment to lose.

An hour melted away as Annette lost herself in her studies, her favorite instrumental tracks lilting through her ears. She didn’t even realize she had begun to hum along until a prickling sensation on the back of her neck caused her to look up. Felix’s amber eyes were fixed on her, his head tilted like an inquisitive cat. He glanced away the moment her gaze caught his. Frowning, she reached up and pulled out one of her earbuds.

“What?”

For a moment she thought he might ignore her, or deny having been caught looking in the first place. But then he nodded in the direction of the piano and for the first time she noticed a wireless microphone lying on top of the bench.

“It’s open mic whenever,” he mumbled. “You don’t have to ask. Just… in case you didn’t know.”

Annette felt her cheeks heat and she had to resist the urge to cover them with her hands. It was bad enough to have been caught humming, but the thought of intentionally singing for other people was even worse.

“Uh, thank you,” she finally squeaked. “Maybe some other time.”

Felix shrugged and went back to polishing the empty glasses.

Annette tried to return to her work, but was distracted when the front door swung open and a tall young man with disheveled red hair strode into the bar.

“Sylvain. You’re late,” Felix grumbled, tossing his rag at the new arrival before folding his arms across his chest. The other man—Sylvain—caught it midair, grinning sheepishly as he stepped behind the counter.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. There was this really cute girl who needed help finding—”

“Save it,” Felix interrupted. “I don’t care.”

Sylvain placed a hand over his heart, a dramatically affronted expression on his face.

“You wound me, Felix,” he said.

“You’ll survive,” was the curt response.

“I don’t know. This time I might actually— Oh! And who might this be?”

It took Annette a moment to realize that Sylvain was referring to her.

“M-me?” she asked, pointing to herself. “Um, I’m Annette.”

“Sylvain,” Sylvain said, reaching out and giving her hand a firm shake. His fingers lingered on hers a second longer than they needed to. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new to the area?”

“Nope!” Annette responded. “I just—”

“Don’t dignify him with a response,” Felix interrupted, cutting her off before she could finish.

“Must you ruin everything?” Sylvain asked, rounding on his coworker.

“Must you flirt with everything?” Felix returned. Sylvain sighed, running a hand through his unruly red hair.

“You sound like Ingrid,” he muttered before turning back to Annette. His eyes flicked to her notebook and the equations written there. The corner of his lips quirked. “I’d double check 3a,” he said with a wink.

“What?!” Annette exclaimed, but he was already walking away.

Her eyes flew to the page, darting between the numbers written there and the problems listed in her textbook. She blinked in surprise. Sure enough. Her careful calculations _were_ incorrect. How had he known that with just one glance? Before Annette could think too much on this surprising turn of events, the door swung open yet again.

This time a young woman with perfectly curled brown hair and bright, emerald eyes strode in, her heeled boots clicking as she moved across the floorboards. She stepped up to the counter and immediately collapsed onto a barstool, massaging her temples with perfectly manicured fingers.

“Ugh, it’s been a day,” she grumbled. “Felix, the usual please.”

Annette turned back to her studies, though she watched Sylvain sidle up to the counter from the corner of her eye.

“Ah, the lovely Dorothea deigns to grace us with her presence,” he said, a coquettish grin on his face. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Rehearsal,” Dorothea answered brusquely. “We've already been at this for weeks and the show is nowhere near where it needs to be. The male lead is _still_ stumbling over his lines and don’t even get me started on the pit orchestra!”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll nail it, Dorothea. You always do,” Sylvain said, a little too innocently. Annette glanced up in time to see the redhead waggle his eyebrows in a distinctly suggestive manner. Dorothea’s mouth quirked as she accepted the drink that Felix handed her.

“As eloquent as ever I see,” she said. “But it’s not me I’m worried about.” She set her credit card on the counter. “Go ahead and start a tab. I’m going to play something.”

Annette, who had been in the process of putting her earbud back in, paused halfway through the act. Her eyes remained focused on her textbook, but her ears piqued in anticipation of the song.

There was a loud scuff of wood grating on wood as Dorothea situated the piano bench. A brief silence followed. Then she began to play.

For a moment, Annette forgot about her studies. Dorothea clearly knew her way around a piano, but it was her voice that had everyone in the bar holding their breath. Rich, full, and saturated with vibrato, Dorothea sounded like a fairytale character who had been plucked from a storybook and deposited in modern society. Her voice was powerful enough to project without the mic’s assistance and the longer Annette listened to her sing, the more convinced she became to stay as far from that piano as possible. Compared to this performance, her own piddly songs and untrained voice would leave much to be desired. A tiny feeling of incompetency stirred in her gut, a feeling she shoved as far into the depths of her soul as possible. Numbers were her thing, not music. She had no reason to feel inadequate.

When Dorothea’s song ended Annette clapped along with everyone else before immediately putting her headphones back in and returning her full attention to her textbook. She didn’t have time to be distracted. There were people out there who were smarter than her. More talented than her.

And she could not afford to fall behind.

…

“Hey. Hey! Um…Annette!”

It was the use of her name that finally pulled Annette from a haze of text and dancing numerals. The girl blinked disorientedly for a moment before pulling her earbuds from her ears and glancing up inquiringly. Felix was standing in front of her and if his disgruntled expression was anything to go by, he had likely been trying to get her attention for a while now. Apparently, he’d been listening when she’d introduced herself to Sylvain. There was no other reason why he’d know her name.

“Yes?” she asked.

“We’re closing in five minutes,” he said shortly, nodding at the clock above the door. Annette glanced at it.

1:55a.m.

Her mouth fell open. She had completely lost track of time! Mercie was probably worried sick! Yanking her phone from her bag, Annette saw that there were indeed a handful of unopened texts from her roommate, each more worried than the last.

“Oh my gosh,” she groaned. “Sorry Mercie!”

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she frantically typed: _So sorry! Studying and lost track of time! Omw home now!_

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Annette mumbled in Felix’s general direction. Clinking dishes from the back room clued her into Sylvain’s whereabouts, her empty glass having been spirited away at some point without her noticing. She scrambled from her stool, catching her toe on the support beam and yelping as she stumbled forward.

“…Careful,” Felix said dryly, raising a brow.

“I’m fine. This is normal,” Annette mumbled then immediately felt like an idiot. That probably wasn’t something she should willingly admit to.

“Are you parked close by?” Felix asked, oblivious to the girl’s embarrassment.

“Just down the street a bit,” Annette responded, straightening and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Anyway, thank you for the cider.”

He nodded once. “Have a good night.”

Annette’s brows lifted. Perhaps there were some manners hiding under that surly attitude after all.

“You too,” she responded before turning and heading out the front door.

Her little red civic was waiting for her in the glow of a nearby streetlamp, one located about a block away from Rodrigue’s. Annette unlocked the doors and slid behind the wheel, dumping her bag unceremoniously into the passenger seat. She was just reaching for her keys when movement in the rearview mirror caught her eye.

Felix was standing just outside of the bar and she could have sworn he was looking in her direction. Before she could tell for sure however, he turned and disappeared inside.

Annette frowned. There was no way he’d been watching to make sure she made it safely to her car... right? No, that was ridiculous. He had probably just been locking the front door or something. She was obviously overthinking things. Pushing the moment from her mind, Annette turned the keys in her ignition, humming Dorothea’s song as she headed toward home.


	2. In Which Felix is Stubborn

The sun was just beginning to sink beyond the horizon when Annette found herself at Rodrigue’s for a second time. As it was still early, she planned on taking advantage of the bar’s quiet atmosphere to get some studying done. What she _hadn’t_ planned on was the pleasant sound of piano music drifting through the closed front door. Not wanting to interrupt, she slid silently into the establishment, peering curiously ahead to see who it was that was playing. She nearly tripped over a barstool.

It was Felix.

His fingers were crafting a quiet, peaceful melody, one Annette immediately recognized as Debussy’s ‘Clair de Lune.’ Her mother had played this all the time when Annette was a child. She, Annette, had called it ‘The Moon Song,’ demanding her mother play it again whenever the music came to an end. To hear it here was as jarring as it was nostalgic, particularly from such an unexpected source.

And he was _good!_ Startlingly good! Annette knew she shouldn’t have been surprised as she hadn’t known him more than a handful of hours. Yet this new Felix—'Musician Felix,’—did not fit her initial impression of him at all. The young man had been all scowls and sharp words. Impatience and agitation. Sitting there now, with his fingers coaxing sweet melodies from the keys, he seemed much gentler than she’d initially perceived.

Soundlessly, Annette put her bag on the floor and slid onto a barstool, not wanting to disrupt the music. She had come here to study, but she found herself enraptured with the song. With the way his body swayed with the melody, his eyes half closed, leaning into the keys like nothing existed beyond himself and the piano. Annette used the counter to pillow her head in her arms, feeling herself relax as the music tumbled and dipped through the bar. There had always been something about song that settled her in a way nothing else could. Felix could have continued to play for hours and she likely wouldn’t have moved an inch.

Yet eventually the final notes of her ‘Moon Song’ faded and Felix sat back, a long sigh escaping his lips.

“Wow! That was amazing!”

The words slipped from Annette’s mouth before she could stop them. Felix swore and turned toward her, his hand knocking discordantly against the piano keys, the instrument releasing an indignant _phlunk_.

“How long have you been there!?” he exclaimed, rising rapidly from the bench.

“Not too long,” Annette replied evasively. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Well say something next time!” Felix growled. Was it Annette’s imagination, or did his cheeks seem slightly flushed? It was kind of…endearing? She got the feeling ‘indignantly flustered’ was not a look he wore often. Annette floundered for something to say as he stepped behind the counter, silence filling the space _Clair de Lune_ had left behind.

“My mother used to play that song all the time,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “I tried but could never quite get it myself.” Felix said nothing, choosing instead to grab a rag from behind the bar and sling it over his shoulder. Refusing to be deterred, Annette barreled on. “You clearly have been playing for a while! Did your parents teach you?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Felix stated by way of response. Annette blinked and immediately shut her mouth. Why _was_ she talking so much? He had given no indication that he wanted to carry on a conversation, and she had come here to study, not chat. 

“Sorry,” Annette replied, feeling suddenly awkward.

“ID?” Felix asked, brushing off her apology. Annette frowned. Did he really need to check it again? There was no way she looked like that much of a child. Part of her wondered if he was just being spiteful because she’d walked in on his piano playing. Or maybe he really was just _that_ diligent of an employee. Annette opened her backpack, proud to see that this time, her wallet was waiting on top. It only took a moment to hand the card over and the look he gave it was so scrutinizing, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Cider?” he asked, returning the ID. 

“Oh! Um, yes please,” Annette responded, surprised he had remembered. She placed her notebook on the counter, doing her best to take up as little space as possible. “So…do _you_ ever play for your customers?” she asked as he returned with her beverage. “You know, with the whole open mic thing?” Felix gave her a flat look and she immediately winced. There she went again with the questions.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t.”

“What?! Why not?” Annette persisted. “You’re so good!”

“I don’t perform. Intentionally.” His retort was paired with a pointed look and Annette barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“The door was open you know,” she said instead. “It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me walk in.”

Felix snorted. “I’ve heard mice that are louder than you,” he returned.

“I’m sorry. Would you like me to announce myself next time?” the girl exclaimed. Felix looked at her for a long moment and Annette felt her face heat up. Why was she so flustered? The bartender looked away.

“This is stupid,” he muttered. “Let me know if you need anything.” He turned to walk away.

“Felix!” His name slipped from her lips before she could stop herself. He looked at her, a brow raised inquiringly. “Y-you really should play,” Annette stammered. She could literally _feel_ the blush fanning across her face. “I think your customers would love it.”

She could read nothing in his eyes. See nothing in his expression to gave away what he was thinking. The door swung open as the two stared at each other, a young couple striding happily into the bar. Felix’s mouth quirked.

“I’ll play when you sing,” he said to her. 

“What? That’s not fair,” she protested. He shrugged.

“A lot of things aren’t.”

With those parting words, he turned to help the new arrivals. It was just as well, Annette thought to herself. She needed to study anyway.

As evening shifted into night, more and more patrons began to drift into Rodrigue’s. At some point Sylvain too had arrived, and Annette caught his eye as she glanced up from a particularly cumbersome equation. He grinned at her and she pulled a headphone from her ear, returning the expression. There was something charmingly contagious about his smile.

“Back again, huh?” Sylvain asked, planting his palms on the countertop and hitting her with the full brunt of those pearly whites. Annette nodded.

“It’s nice to get out of my apartment every once in a while,” she responded with a shrug.

“Sure, sure,” Sylvain replied, glancing down at her notebook. Annette barely resisted the urge to throw herself on top of the paper, his previous critique of her work still fresh in her mind. “So, what are you studying for?” he asked instead, the question catching her off guard. Annette blinked.

“Oh! Entrance exams!” she responded, with more enthusiasm than she felt. “I want to be an aerospace engineer and the university I’m applying to has a really great program! Only…” she trailed off.

“Only?” Sylvain prompted. Annette sighed and set her pen down, watching as it rolled across the paper and paused an inch from the edge.

“It’s far away. _Really_ far away,” she told him, her shoulders slumping. “If I get in, I’d have to leave all my friends behind, not to mention my mother and my uncle. It’s…kind of a scary concept.”

Sylvain looked thoughtful. “Scary enough to stop you from going?” he asked.

“No!” Annette exclaimed. The word surged from her lips before she could think about what she was saying and she paused, taken aback by her own ferocity. Finally, she shook her head. “No,” she said again, quieter this time. “I’ve worked too hard for this.”

The corner of Sylvain’s lips quirked upward. “Glad to hear it,” he said, reaching for her empty glass. “I’ll get you a refill on the house!”

“What?! You don’t have t—never mind,” she mumbled, her fingertips working circles into her temples.

He returned a moment later, a full glass in hand.

“Thank you,” Annette said as he set it in front of her. Sylvain shrugged.

“For a cute girl like you? No problem at all,” he responded with a wink. Annette shook her head. She knew he was just being coy, but she found herself smiling anyway.

“Shouldn’t you be helping Felix?” she asked, purposefully changing the subject. “It’s gotten pretty busy.”

“Hm? Oh, nah. I’d just get in the way,” Sylvain responded, glancing over to where his co-worker was flying through drink orders at a blistering pace. “I have this theory that Felix is only so fast because he knows the sooner he makes the drinks, the sooner the customers leave.” Sylvain beamed at her. “I’m only here because my charming personality brings the ladies back. I’m good for business.”

This time Annette really did roll her eyes. “I’m sure.” She watched as Felix took on four beverages at once, his fingers moving with the same dexterous precision he had shown while playing _Clair de Lune_. “Has he really never performed here before?” she asked, cupping her chin in her palm. Sylvain burst out laughing.

“Ah, so you know he plays do you?” he inquired, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Annette didn’t like at all. She gave him a pointed look and Sylvain pressed on. “No. Absolutely not. It’s a real shame since he’d make a killing on tips if he did.”

“Hmm,” Annette murmured, her eyes drifting to the vacated piano bench.

_“I’ll play when you sing.”_

Had he meant it?

Right at that moment a chorus of raucous cheering broke out from the round table in the corner and Annette turned to see a young man with unkempt blue hair rise from his chair.

“Here we go,” Sylvain murmured, amusement glittering in his eyes.

The blue-haired man grinned widely at his friends before turning and striding confidently toward the piano.

“Who is that?” Annette asked, her open notebook forgotten. 

“Caspar Bergliez,” Sylvain answered. “He and his friends are regulars here.”

Annette nodded slowly, watching as Caspar picked up the microphone and gave it a few experimental taps.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, acknowledging the cheers from his friends’ table. A wide grin broke across his face and he looked directly at Sylvain. “You know what to do!” he exclaimed, pointing to the red-haired bartender.

“Ah. It appears my services are required,” Sylvain said to Annette. “Don’t worry. You’re in for a treat.” He disappeared into the back room, leaving the girl to wonder if she should indeed be worried.

“You might want to cover your ears.”

Annette jumped. She hadn’t even heard Felix approach. He was staring after Sylvain, an ominously foreboding expression on his face.

“Why?” she asked.

“Just…trust me,” Felix responded. Annette bit her lip, her eyes darting back to Caspar. The young man had begun to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet, as if preparing to sprint, not sing. The click of an AUX cord being plugged in crackled above the hum of chatter, and Annette glanced up, surprised to see speakers situated in the corners of the room. She hadn’t noticed them before.

Caspar’s grin looked almost feral. “Hope you all are ready for this,” he said into the mic.

“No one is ready for this,” Felix grumbled.

That was when the first riff of Guns N’ Roses’ ‘ _Welcome to the Jungle’_ blasted through the speaker.

“Whoo! Go Caspar!”

One of his friends had raised her glass in an exuberant toast, her pink hair tumbling in a long ponytail past her shoulders. Caspar beamed, lifting his hands as the music intensified and executing some truly inspired air guitar.

Then he began to sing.

“Oh,” Annette murmured, so quietly only Felix could hear. “Oh no.”

To Caspar’s credit, he was a very enthusiastic performer. The young man wove through the tables while belting the lyrics, going so far as to drop dramatically to his knees whenever the song required it. What he lacked in tone he seemed to be trying to make up for in volume, screaming the words more so than singing them. Yet somehow, despite how terrible his voice was, Annette couldn’t help but grin and laugh along anyway. The young man’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“You’re…actually enjoying this.” Felix’s words were more statement than question.

“It’s fun!” Annette responded, watching as Caspar sang ‘you’re a very sexy girl,’ turning to point at the pink haired young woman who promptly stood and took a bow.

“You have an interesting definition of ‘fun,’” Felix retorted.

Annette rolled her eyes. “And I’m starting to wonder if you know what the word means at all!” she returned.

“I know how to have fun,” Felix said flatly.

“Oh yeah?” Annette asked, narrowing her eyes in challenge. “Prove it! Get up there and perform yourself!”

Felix glowered at her. “I have nothing to prove to you,” he stated. Annette sat back, folding her arms across her chest and fixing him with her best triumphant stare.

“I think you’re scared,” she said without preamble. Felix visibly bristled.

“I am not scared.”

“It kind of seems like you are.”

“I don’t see _you_ up there,” he growled in response.

The two glared at each other.

“IT’S GONNA BRING YOU DOWN! HYUH!”

The song’s final chord blared over the speakers as Caspar thrust his fist triumphantly into the air. His friends burst into raucous applause, one of them placing his fingers in his mouth and releasing a piercing wolf whistle.

“Thank you, thank you,” Caspar said, too caught up in his friend’s praise to notice the blatantly dismayed looks he was receiving from the other patrons.

Annette stood up, her gaze fixed hotly on Felix as she shoved her stool away from the counter. Turning, she strode across the floor, weaving through the tables until she was standing right next to the blue-haired young man. Before her rational thoughts could catch up with her actions, she cleared her throat and tapped him on the shoulder. Caspar glanced at her, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.

“Uh, hi?” he said.

“Hi! I’m Annette. That was a great performance,” she stated, the words tumbling in a rush from her lips. She had to get this out before she lost her nerve. “Could I maybe see that for a minute?” she gestured to the mic. “Please?”

“What this? Sure!” he responded, holding it out to her.

“Thank you.” She took it and turned back toward the counter. Felix was still watching her, his arms crossed, clearly waiting to see what she would do. Sylvain had returned from the back room and now he too was looking on curiously. They weren’t the only ones. Rodrigue’s seemed exceptionally quiet in the wake of Caspar’s performance and Annette felt her face begin to warm. What was she doing? She had come here to study! Quietly! Without drawing any attention to herself! That was the literal opposite of what she was doing now.

Someone coughed, drawing her back to the reality of a crowded bar, a microphone, and what felt like the world’s expectations on her shoulders.

“You got this!”

Annette blinked, turning to look at Caspar. He beamed, flashing her a cheesy thumbs up. “It’s not so bad once you start. I promise!”

She opened her mouth to reply, but instantly thought better of it. The temptation to puke was too great. So instead she gave him a tiny nod and met Felix’s gaze again. He smirked. It was obvious he didn’t think she was going to do it.

_“I’ll play when you sing…”_

Her eyes narrowed. She lifted the mic to her lips.

_Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me._

_You claim you want to listen so don’t ignore my heart and lecture me_

_It’s easier to smile, because explaining will take a while_

_Oh, we’re coming undone_

_Soulmates aren’t just lovers, they’re the things that keep you going cause_

_Without those little promises, you’ve got nothing left but broken trust_

_To live in this word, just hold on to these three things_

_A little happiness, some hope, and maybe… me_

The bar had gone silent and Annette was very aware of all the eyes that had fixated on her. It was a song of her own making, the first thing that had popped into her mind. She began to move toward the piano, the next verse lilting from her lips.

_Some lessons you learn on your own, like how to move on and how to cope_

_We’re not perfect, yes that’s true. But there’s one thing that I learned without you_

_You’re allowed to be a masterpiece and a work in progress simultaneously_

_Finally, I’m free_

Annette sat down and began to play, the keys and her voice synchronizing in a perfect duet.

_Soulmates aren’t just lovers, they’re the things that keep you going cause_

_Without those little promises, you’ve got nothing left but broken trust_

_To live in this world, just hold on to these three things_

_A little happiness, some hope, and maybe… me_

_Don’t tell me you know what’s best for me when all you ever did was leave_

_Your future needs you, your past doesn’t_

_So spare me your false sympathy_

_My recovery doesn’t need you redeemed, so I won’t let you put that pressure on me_

_I’ll never have to forgive and forget, cause I’ve found love I know I’ll never regret_

_Soulmates aren’t just lovers, they’re the ones in life you learn to love_

_You don’t have to measure up, with real love you’ll always be enough_

_It’s okay to move on, even if it takes some time, just try to remember that…_

_Soulmates aren’t just lovers, they’re the home you’ve made and they’re safe to trust_

_They’re imperfect like you, and you’ll both screw up_

_But they’ll always be there and yours to love_

_To live in this world, just hold on to these three things_

_A little happiness, some love, and maybe…me_

A pause followed the last few notes and then, unexpectedly, the whole bar burst into applause. Annette felt her cheeks grow warm. Her heart was pounding a thousand beats a minute, her hands visibly shaking where they rested on the keys. Somehow, her knees stopped wobbling long enough for her to stand and she gave a brief bow before scuttling toward her spot at the bar. She paused halfway, swiveling about to return the microphone. 

“Wow! Well done!” Sylvain exclaimed as she finally sat down. “Cute and talented!”

“Um, thank you,” Annette responded. She was still trying to get her breathing under control which was making it difficult to talk.

Felix was currently assisting two customers and hadn’t so much as glanced her way.

“I haven’t heard that song before! Who’s it by?” Sylvain persisted.

“Hmm? Oh,” Annette felt herself blush. “ _I_ wrote that song. It…I…I wasn’t sure what else to sing.” She glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t ask about the composition’s inspiration. Sylvain let out a long, impressed whistle.

“Wow. Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked with a wink.

“Um…” Annette began. She was spared answering the question by a disgruntled Felix.

“Sylvain! Are you planning on doing _any_ work tonight?” he asked, shooting a pointed glare in his coworker’s direction. The red-head sighed, straightening from his place against the counter.

“Well since you asked so nicely…” he replied, his words saturated with sarcasm. With a final wink at Annette, he sauntered away.

Annette herself turned back to Felix who appeared to be fascinated with wiping a nonexistent spot from the countertop. 

“So…what did you think?” she asked him, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. Felix glanced at her.

“Your song was nice,” he said brusquely. “I don’t know what you were so nervous about.”

Despite the praise, Annette found herself frowning. “Nice? That’s it?” she asked, before she could stop herself. Felix’s brow furrowed.

“You make it sound like I insulted you,” he said. “Nice is a good thing.”

“I _know_ , but—Ugh, never mind,” she mumbled, wondering why she felt so disappointed. He wasn’t wrong. ‘Nice’ generally was a good thing.

It just wasn’t a _great_ thing.

“You’re not making sense,” Felix said bluntly. Annette glared at him, her fingers tumbling in a single impatient roll across the countertop.

“Your piano playing is also nice,” she said to him. “So, by your own logic, you really should get up there.”

Felix gave her a flat look. “I told you, I don’t perform for people,” he grumbled.

“You also told me you would play if I sang,” Annette countered.

“I didn’t think you would actually—!” Felix cut himself off and looked away.

“Kinda dug yourself into a hole there, buddy!” Sylvain called merrily from across the bar. Felix’s head snapped in his coworker’s direction.

“Shut up!”

A giggle escaped Annette’s lips that she tried desperately to suppress, though Felix was already glowering at her.

“Fine,” he growled, throwing his rag on the counter and storming out from behind the bar. He strode over to the piano bench and dropped into the seat, glaring pointedly at her the entire time.

He never looked away, even as he played the angriest rendition of ‘Chopsticks’ Annette had ever heard.

A confused smattering of applause followed in the wake of his performance. One of Caspar’s friends, a young man with dark skin and emerald eyes, actually cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled: “Encore!”

Felix ignored this as he crossed back to the bar, promptly grabbing a whiskey bottle from the bottom shelf and pouring himself a shot. He turned, raised the glass to Annette, and drained the whole thing. Then, with a final glower, he disappeared into the back room.

Annette glared after him a second longer before turning back to her notebook.

Her studies had been ignored long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there are so many people deserving of thanks for this chapter!! First of all to the wonderfully, amazingly talented [ azuriteaura ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azuriteaura/pseuds/azuriteaura) for writing Annette's beautiful song lyrics!!!! You are such a rockstar and I am so grateful and honored and humbled by your contribution to my little fic >< Secondly to [ anthiese ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthiese/pseuds/anthiese) for coming up with the idea that Felix is only so speedy at drink making because he wants the customers to leave. xD Thank you for your contribution xD Then to [ roxyryoko ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko) for helping me with Caspar's song inspiration!! 
> 
> Lastly to the inimitable [ RoseisaRoseisaRose ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseisaRoseisaRose/pseuds/RoseisaRoseisaRose) without whom this chapter would have been even later than it already was xD Also who's joke about Felix playing 'Chopsticks' was so perfect, there was no way it WASN'T ending up in the story. 
> 
> Okay so that was basically a speech, but these people deserve all the praise!! This chapter was a compilation of a lot of minds and it was really a blast to write! Thank you so much for reading and hope to see you in the next chapter! :)


	3. In Which Felix Starts a Fight

To say Annette’s evening had taken an odd turn would be an understatement of the highest degree.

She and Mercedes had planned to spend a few hours sipping wine at a local venue, only to be turned away due to an abundance of people with similar plans. Determined to have an enjoyable evening regardless, the two had wandered downtown where they promptly ran into Felix and Sylvain. The redhead had extended an invitation and, half an hour later, they had ended up…here.

‘Here’ was a nightclub by name of Capers, a thriving hot spot for young adults situated in the bustling center of downtown. Lights flashed and winked in various neon shades, spilling a patchwork of yellows, greens, and oranges across a rowdy dance floor. Music blared from countless speakers, the bass turned up so loudly that Annette’s glass rattled every time the beat dropped. The bar itself was nearly hidden behind the waves of people clamoring for beverages, and the whole place smelled of warm bodies and alcohol. Annette enjoyed dancing as much as the next girl, but this wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when Sylvain had suggested it. The redhead himself had disappeared several minutes ago on the arm of a pretty brunette with an eye for fruity cocktails. Annette, Mercedes, and Felix had been left behind, and it was impossible to say which of the three looked more uncomfortable.

Thus far, Felix had been unreceptive to the girls' attempts to draw him into conversation. He didn’t go so far as to ignore them, but he didn’t go out of his way to encourage them either. It quickly became apparent that he was not thrilled to be here, and Annette found herself wondering if perhaps the night might be better spent back home with pajamas and a romcom.

It was at this moment that Mercedes stood.

“Annie? Would you mind watching my purse while I use the restroom?” she asked.

“Oh, I-I’ll just go with you!” Annette exclaimed. She moved to stand but paused when Mercie shook her head.

“Oh no, that’s alright,” she replied. “You two can talk. I’ll only be a moment.”

There was a glimmer in her eye.

Annette frowned. “If you’re sure…” she responded, casting a dubious eye at the multitude of people stumbling about, beverages sloshing onto the floor. It was little wonder why her shoes felt so sticky.

“I am,” Mercedes responded brightly. The blonde turned and strode away before Annette could voice any more protests, and just like that, she was alone with Felix. Her face warmed, a sensation she was determined to link to the packed nightclub and not the handsome young man sitting across from her. The two hadn’t spoken since the Chopsticks fiasco, indeed Annette hadn’t been back to Rodrigue’s since that memorable day. It had only been a week, but her cheeks still flamed at the memory of his eyes brimming with as much annoyance as there’d been alcohol in his shot of whiskey.

Felix’s fingers drummed across the table, the rhythmic tapping swallowed in an aggressive onslaught of hip-hop music. His eyes scanned the crowd, likely in an attempt to locate Sylvain. That was who he was supposed to be spending his evening with after all. Not Annette. It had been Sylvain who had extended her the invitation. Sylvain who had convinced she and Mercedes to come along. Felix had said nothing on the matter, though if his stiff complexion was anything to go by, he probably didn’t want them there at all.

Nothing about this place seemed like his sort of scene—not that Annette would know after only a handful of weeks of acquaintanceship. Still, he seemed even moodier than usual and Annette wasn't sure if this was because of her, or the questionably dressed patrons with their fruity drinks and painted eyelids. In a place like this, Felix stuck out like a sore thumb. He and Sylvain must have been good friends indeed for the former to put up with a place like this. 

“Do you come here a lot?”

She practically shouted the question at him, the booming stereo rendering regular volumes impossible. Felix's fingers stopped their tapping.

“Not when I can avoid it,” he responded flatly. “But for some ridiculous reason, Sylvain likes it here.” A group of young women chose that moment to walk past, all pointed stilettos and sparkling miniskirts. A few of them offered winks and waves in Felix’s direction, all of which he pointedly ignored. Stifling a smile, Annette thought she might have quite the good idea as to why Sylvain liked it here so much. “The people are bad enough, but you’d think he’d at least choose a cesspit with better drinks,” Felix grumbled, shooting his beverage a reproachful glare. Annette nodded, encouraged by the conversation.

“It’s louder than what I’m used to,” she acknowledged, her eyes lingering on the bodies spilling from the dance floor. “But the dancing seems fun! Do you dance, Felix?”

He gave her a flat look, one that rendered his following response moot.

“No.”

Annette sighed at the return of monosyllabic retorts. “Of course, you don’t,” she mumbled, not surprised, but somehow disappointed anyway. Her phone chose that moment to vibrate and, as Felix had gone back to scanning the crowd, she picked it up. The device lit up to reveal a new text, and she grinned the second she saw the contents. The word 'LOOK’ was written in all caps beneath a selfie of a grinning Ashe, while a tiny white and brown kitten perched contentedly on his shoulder.

“Aw!” Annette squealed, clapping her hand over her mouth at the sudden, unbidden exclamation. Felix glanced back at her, his brows furrowing.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh,” Annette mumbled. Embarrassment painted her cheeks red, but that was no reason to actually conceal the text. “…My friend sent me a picture of a kitten.”

“Really?” Felix leaned forward, seemed to realize what he was doing, and nearly upset his chair in an attempt to scoot back. Annette stared at him, surprised.

“Did you want to see?” she asked, proffering her phone. “It’s cu-ute.” Perhaps it was the singsong she added to her voice, or maybe it was the kitten itself, but either way Felix glanced back over. Slowly he reached for the phone, comically reminding Annette of a cautious animal accepting a treat for the first time. A brief silence followed as Felix studied the photo and Annette studied Felix. His amber eyes had lost their edge and something about his softened expression sent butterflies tumbling about her stomach. Annette swallowed, shifting her gaze to her fingers. “Do you like cats?” she asked, chipping at the polish already peeling from her nails. There was a soft thump as Felix set her phone back on the table. 

“I do,” he responded. Annette beamed, glancing up and holding his gaze for the space of two heartbeats. He glanced away, shifting in his seat.

“You do strike me as a cat person,” she observed thoughtfully, resting her pointer finger against her chin.

“…Alright,” Felix replied.

“Do you have any of your own?”

“I don’t.”

Annette deflated a little. “That’s too bad.” He really was going to make this difficult for her, wasn’t he? Maybe she had misread his intrigue after all. 

“Do you? Have cats, I mean.”

Annette’s answering smile was bigger than the question warranted, but Felix’s effort to continue the conversation had her grinning like an idiot.

“No,” she responded wistfully. “The university I’m applying for is pretty far away and I don’t want to traumatize the poor kitty with excessive travel. Besides, pets are expensive and I’m trying to rationalize my spending…though Mercie might say otherwise.” A sheepish giggle escaped her lips. “Someday though! Probably when my life is a little more in order.”

“Which university?”

Annette blinked. “Hm?”

“Which university are you applying for?” Felix clarified.

“Garreg Mach!” Annette replied, the enthusiasm in her voice audible even to her. “Their campus is gorgeous and their aerospace engineering program is unparalleled! Getting in…” she sighed again. “It would be a dream.”

Felix took a sip of beer, a thoughtful frown on his face. “If you care so much about the university, why did you wait this long to apply?” he asked. The inquiry, while not intentionally biting, set Annette’s emotions curling into a protective ball.

“Oh. That’s because…” Her shoulders hunched, a manifestation of her sudden anxiety. “Um, some things happened and the timing…it wasn’t…” she glanced away, floundering to come up with a satisfying answer while veering away from the truth.

It was then that her eyes landed on Mercedes.

The blonde had clearly been on her way back to the table, but had apparently gotten waylaid by a bearded man with a drink in his hand and a glint in his eye. He was looking at Mercedes in a way that Annette instantly did not like, the curl of his lips causing her protective hackles to rise. Mercedes was smiling calmly, though Annette could tell by her friend’s stiff posture that the man’s attention was neither pleasant nor wanted. She rose to her feet, ready to rush to the rescue, but had hardly taken a step forward before Mercedes slipped away. The man did not follow, but Annette saw the way his eyes trailed Mercedes all the way back to their table. It was only when she’d sat down again that he slunk away, vanishing into the crowd a second later. Frowning, Annette turned to her friend.

“Did you know that guy, Mercie?” she asked.

Mercedes smiled at Annette’s concern. “No. But it's fine, don’t worry,” she answered. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“Good!” Annette responded, folding her arms across her chest. “But if he comes back, he’ll have to deal with me!” Mercedes’ answering giggle did nothing to drown out the derisive snort that escaped Felix’s lips. Annette rounded on him. “What?” she asked defensively. The corner of his mouth twitched. 

“Nothing,” he responded. Annette was having none of it.

“No, not ‘nothing.’ I heard you snort at me!” she protested. Felix’s eyes caught hers and Annette felt her traitorous cheeks flush.

“Okay,” he responded, his shoulders lifting in an infuriatingly casual shrug. “As intimidating as you seem to think you are, guys like that won’t be put off by tiny kittens hissing at them.”

Annette gaped at him. “Kittens!?” she exclaimed. “I am not—that’s not even original Felix! We were just talking about cats!” To her chagrin, his smirk only grew.

“Hiss away little cat,” he said to her. Annette’s fists clenched.

“Ugh, you are the _worst!_ ” she growled. A familiar giggle had Annette turning to Mercedes, and she pouted at her friend’s betrayal. “Not you too!” she moaned.

“I’m sorry, Annie,” Mercedes replied, though the laughter in her eyes belied the apology. 

“Look who I found!”

Any further teasing at Annette’s expense was thwarted as Sylvain chose that moment to reappear. The brunette was gone, but two familiar faces trailed behind him instead. Annette recognized Caspar immediately, his performance of ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ still a vivid memory. The second was a pretty, pink haired young woman, and though Annette recognized her from Rodrigue’s, she had never actually caught the girl’s name.

“Hey guys!” Caspar said brightly, his eyes drifting from Annette, to Felix, to Mercedes. Beside him, the pink haired girl cleared her throat. “Oh! This is Hilda!” he introduced. “Hilda, this is Annette and…um…” he trailed off, apparently realizing he hadn’t yet met the blonde. She smiled warmly.

“Mercedes. It’s lovely to meet you,” Mercedes said.

“The pleasure is _all_ ours,” Hilda responded, beaming. “First time at Capers?” Annette and Mercedes nodded their confirmation. “It’s not bad as far as night clubs go,” Hilda continued. “But the real treasure is the dance floor. You both dance, of course.” It was not a question.

“Of course!” Annette responded with much more confidence than she felt. She ignored Mercedes’ amused giggle.

“In that case, what say we hit the dance floor? Show this place how it’s done?” Sylvain asked, nodding in the direction of the flashing lights.

“I am so there,” Caspar said, rubbing his hands together. “Everyone better make some room!”

“Yes, yes,” Hilda replied with an eye roll that could only be described as endearing. She grabbed his hand and lead him toward the dance floor anyway, beckoning the others to follow.

“You ladies coming?” Sylvain inquired.

“Why not,” Mercedes responded. “Annie?”

“You know it,” Annette responded.

“It’s crowded out there,” Felix said from where he still sat in the chair. “If you’re not careful you’ll get trampled.”

Annette had had just about enough of his unwarranted teasing.

“Then come along and make sure I don’t!” she blurted, slamming her hands onto her hips.

The two stared at each other, Felix looking about as surprised as Annette felt. She was not entirely sure where this newfound boldness had come from. Yet no amount of bold words would change the fact that Felix did not seem the sort to waste time on a dance floor. Particularly one that was overcrowded with writhing, sweaty bodies. So it was to Annette’s every astonishment when, instead of rebuffing her, he gave the slightest nod of his head.

“Fine.” He crossed his arms, glaring at the dance floor like it was a challenge he hadn’t quite figured out how to master. Annette did not dwell on her amazement for long. Felix had agreed to dance and she would not give him the chance to change his mind.

“Then let’s go!” she exclaimed, reaching forward and wrapping slender fingers around his arm. Before he could protest, she was steering him toward the dance floor, completely missing the amused look exchanged by Sylvain and Mercedes.

…

Felix did not know what he was doing and it was making him irritable. Well, more irritable than usual. The music pounded in an auto-tuned abomination of song, seizure inducing lights flashed overhead, and far too many people had crowded into far too small a space. He did not dance, a fact that was made clearer with every second he stood like a particularly mutinous tree. Why he had agreed to this was beyond him. Annette had used the full force of those big blue eyes and somehow, inconceivably, he had found himself nodding along. It was as though he had momentarily taken leave of his senses. Part of him wished he could blame it on an overabundance of beer, though he had consumed nowhere near enough to justify this claim. Still, that was the excuse he would be giving Sylvain later if his friend asked about it. Which he would.

“I’m not sure you know how dancing works.”

Felix blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the return of those blue eyes.

“What?”

Annette gave him an exasperated look.

“Dancing,” she repeated, over-exaggerating her articulation. “You know, like this?” She shimmied her hips and gave him a pointed look, one Felix missed due to his sudden inability to form a coherent thought. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m not doing that,” he said flatly, crossing his arms and looking away. She rolled her eyes.

“This is a dance floor, Felix! What were you expecting?” Her question struck a nerve as he’d been asking himself that same thing since he’d gotten here. An incomparable feeling of idiocy overwhelmed him, exacerbating the irritation already broiling in his gut. 

“I don’t know!” he shot back, seething. “Not whatever _that_ was! That…hip thing.”

Annette blinked. “Hip thing?”

Felix’s cheeks flared. “This is pointless. I’m leaving.”

“You’re—what?! Felix, wait!”

Felix ignored Annette’s protests as he shoved his way through the mob. Ignored the way his heart was beating a million miles a minute. Ignored the flush on his face that was thanks to the amount of compressed bodies and not at all with the way Annette had swung her hips. This place was too crowded. He needed air. Yet trying to push through the waves of people was like trying to walk against a current. His shoes kept sticking to the floor as countless spilled beverages and who knew what else did their best to hold him in place. He gritted his teeth.

“Felix! Wait!”

Annette was still following him. He pressed his lips together, trying to shut out her voice. Her eyes.

“Felix, I didn’t mean t—Ah!”

He turned at the distressed exclamation, irritation forgotten as he scanned the crowd for a familiar flash of red hair. There were too many damn people and Annette was too damn _tiny!_ Hadn’t he been the one to tease her about getting trampled in the first place? The jibe was far less amusing now.

“Annette?” he called, pushing back the way he'd come. Sylvain, Mercedes, Caspar, and Hilda had been swallowed by the dance floor at some point during his retreat. Perhaps Annette had found her way back to them? He pressed forward anyway.

“Mercie?”

He paused at the sound of her voice, trying to locate her amongst the swells of intoxicated chaos.

“Felix?”

Annette called his name and something within him, something protective, opened an eye.

“Mercie? Fe—ow!”

He spotted her. She was trying her best to move past a group of young men, all of whom were bobbing drunkenly to the music. One of them tripped and stumbled into Annette, sending the girl reeling. A cry of surprise left her lips as she toppled backward. Felix reached out, catching Annette’s wrist at the last moment and pulling her into him. She steadied herself against his chest, her body freezing the moment her eyes met his.

“F-Felix?” she stammered.

“I told you you’d get trampled,” he said by way of response. She opened her mouth to protest but seemed to think better of it. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her words just audible over the pounding music.

Another swarm flooded the floor and Annette squeaked as the masses pushed them even closer together. Felix grunted, keeping an arm protectively around her shoulders, determined not to lose her in the mass of people. Still, he would be lying to say he wasn’t aware of just how tightly the two were pressed against each other. Just how warm Annette’s body was against his. Just how good her hair smelled…

It took him a moment to realize the girl had said something to him, something he'd completely missed while lost in the haze of his thoughts.

“What?!” Despite their close proximity, he still had to shout to be heard. Annette pressed up onto her tiptoes and all he could see were blue eyes and pink lips. Heat pooled in his cheeks, but there was nowhere to retreat to.

“Do you want to find everyone else!?” she repeated.

This seemed like a very good plan and he nodded, immediately scanning the crowd in search of an optimal escape route. A slight gap opened between two stumbling dancers and Felix surged forward, nearly tripping over Annette who hadn’t expected the sudden movement. For a moment the two flailed in a confused tangle of limbs before Annette managed to extract herself, her complexion rivaling her hair.

“Here,” she said, sliding her hand into his. “So we don’t get separated.” Felix hesitated, then tightened his fingers around her own. 

“Stay close,” he told her before facing the crowds again.

It was slow going, the dancers effectively forming a wall that dipped and swayed like ocean tides, making progress difficult. Yet eventually they reached the edge of the mob, stepping off the dance floor and taking a moment to relish in the absence of sweaty bodies. Felix glanced back at the mass, wondering how in the world anyone found that sort of thing fun. He could have made an entire beverage from the alcohol spilled on him during their retreat alone and even if he _did_ enjoy dancing, which he didn’t, there had been no room to do much more than sway.

“Where do you think everyone went?”

Felix glanced down at Annette. At her fingers still twined around his. He cleared his throat and let go, missing the disappointment that flashed through her eyes.

“If they’re still dancing, we’ll never find them,” he said. “Let’s check by the bar.”

While the perimeter wasn’t quite as claustrophobic as the dance floor itself, Felix still felt he was more swimming through the crowds than actually walking. Maybe he shouldn’t have let go of Annette after all. No sooner had he thought this, did he feel the slightest amount of pressure at the small of his back. Felix glanced behind him to see that Annette had gripped the fabric of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger, a determined expression on her face. A tiny smile rose unbidden to his lips as he faced forward again, slowing his pace enough for the girl to maintain her hold.

As the bar came into view, a shock of blue hair above a familiar boyish face drew Felix’s eyes like a beacon. He veered in its direction, Annette trailing him like a wayward water ski.

“Felix! Annette!” Sylvain stood, waving the pair toward their booth before scooting over and patting the empty space beside him. Annette moved to sit, though paused as she glanced from Hilda, to Caspar, to Sylvain. A frown marred her features.

“Where’s Mercie?” she asked. Sylvain’s grin faltered.

“She wasn’t with you?” he asked. Annette shook her head.

“No. We got separated on the dance floor...” Her voice hitched and she glanced around the crowded space.

“Well she has to be here somewhere,” Hilda stated, pursing her lips and scanning the bar.

“Yeah! There’s no way she would have left without us,” Caspar agreed, rising from his seat. “We’ll find her, Annette.”

“You guys go,” Hilda said. “I’ll stay here in case she comes this way.”

“I’ll stay too,” Sylvain stated. “Can’t leave a lady on her own in a place like this.” Annette bit her lip and Felix resisted the urge to smack Sylvain upside the head. The redhead immediately looked guilty. “But I’m sure Mercedes is fine,” he added quickly. 

Hilda rolled her eyes before turning back to Caspar.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?” she asked with a wink. Caspar grinned, the request clearly old territory.

“I make no promises,” he replied and Hilda giggled.

Felix’s eyes flicked to Annette, taking in her worried gaze and stiff posture.

“Let’s go,” he said, stepping away from the booth.

The three made an odd train as they pressed through the crowd, each one keeping an eye out for Mercedes. Everywhere Felix looked there were faces in various states of intoxication, though none of them belonged to the willowy young woman they were searching for. Still, he agreed with Caspar. There was no way Mercedes would have left without Annette.

“There she is!”

Felix’s eyes followed Annette’s pointing finger to a cluster of high-top tables and a familiar blonde woman perching there. Mercedes was looking distinctly uncomfortable, surrounded as she was by three men, all with identical sneers on their faces. One of them, Felix noted, was the same bearded idiot who had been hitting on her before. Annette stiffened and a moment later she had released his shirt, striding toward Mercedes as fast as her small legs could carry her.

“This doesn’t look good,” Caspar muttered. Felix couldn’t help but agree and the two fell into step a short distance behind Annette. They were too far away to hear what was being said, but it was easy to insinuate as the creep leaned toward Mercedes and she leaned away. The blonde rose from her seat but before she could take two steps, the bearded man grabbed her wrist and pulled her back toward him. The flicker of fear that passed across Mercedes’ face had Caspar and Felix quickening their pace, but it was Annette who got there first.

“What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Annie!” Mercedes exclaimed, concern replacing the relief in her eyes as the man’s drunken gaze slid to Annette. He gave her frame a dismissive once over.

“Mind your own business,” he slurred, his cronies snickering behind him. Annette did not back down.

“Mercie _is_ my business!” she shot back, slamming her hands onto her hips. The man took a step toward the redhead, his meaty fingers still holding Mercedes wrist.

"Is that so?" he asked, his words heavy with alcohol. 

"Yes," Annette answered fiercely, holding her ground.

One heartbeat passed. Then two.

A twitch of the beard was the only warning they got before the man lifted his free hand and shoved Annette back.

She stumbled at the force of the push, tripped over a nearby table leg, and crashed into the adjacent high-top. Upended beverages rained down upon her as Annette hit the floor, biting back a cry of pain upon impact.

Looking back on this moment, Felix would not be able to recall exactly what it was that came over him. He saw Annette fall, heard the whimper of pain that escaped her lips, and something inside him snapped. Before he knew what was happening, he had closed the distance between himself and the creep still holding a furious Mercedes.

“Hey.”

The man turned to look at him and Felix’s fist flew forward.

The crack of knuckles meeting bone was audible even over the blare of music, and several people shrieked as blood spattered the floor. A howl rent the air as the man released Mercedes and stumbled away, clamping his hands over a heavily bleeding nose. Felix flexed his fingers, ignoring the sting of his knuckles as the creep’s cronies turned on him, murder in their eyes.

“You are so dead!” one yelled, lunging forward. An animalistic roar rose above the shouts of the spectators and then Caspar was there, tackling the crony from the side and sending them both into another hapless table. More shrieks erupted as partiers scrambled away from the fight, dodging upended barstools and tabletops as the two hit the ground in a heap of flailing limbs. Felix’s own hands were full as the other assailant took a clumsy swing at him. He ducked, his opponent’s movements slow and off balance. Swerving away from another blow, Felix retaliated, slamming his fist into the drunkard’s stomach. His bloodied knuckles protested at the contact, but the punch had the desired effect. His opponent fell to his knees, gasping as the wind fled his lungs.

“Felix, behind you!”

Caspar’s warning came a second too late as something large moved in Felix’s peripherals. Whirling around, he saw that the bearded man had recovered and was now trundling toward him, blood pooling in the bristles of his facial hair. The big man raised his fist, but before he could land a blow, a red flash launched into the fray, hissing like an angry cat. For the space of a breath, Felix could only stare. It was Annette. She had leapt onto the bearded man’s back, her small arms looped around his large ones, restraining his movement and sending him off balance.

“Get off me!” the man growled, jerking and twitching like a bull in a rodeo, Annette the stubborn cowgirl. Felix darted forward as her grip began to slip, her hold lost completely as the man gave a final wrenching heave. She tumbled backward but Felix was already there. His arms slid around her waist, the girl squeaking in surprise he hoisted her up and out of the reach of their snarling opponent. 

“Hey! You there! Break it up!”

Everyone froze as the nightclub's bouncers at last arrived on the scene, their voices cutting through the pandemonium as they shoved into the crowd.

“Time to go,” Felix muttered, then promptly realized his arms were still clasped around Annette’s waist. He cleared his throat and set her on the floor.

“Back door, let's move!” Caspar quipped, darting past Felix and Annette and gesturing for them to follow.

“Come on, Mercie!” Annette cried, grabbing her friend’s hand and pulling her after Caspar.

For the first time that night, Felix was grateful for the hordes of people that clogged the floor. The same wall of bodies that had so irked him before now formed the barrier that kept the bouncers at bay. He trailed behind Annette and Mercedes, every once in awhile glancing over his shoulder to ensure they maintained their lead. It was because of this that he almost tumbled headlong into Sylvain and Hilda who were anxiously awaiting them at the bar’s rear exit. 

“Out the back we go!” Hilda singsonged, ushering them through the door with a wave of her glittering nails.

“Stop!” one of the bouncers shouted.

“Out we go faster!” Hilda exclaimed.

They burst through the door and onto a fenced in porch, startling the handful of people smoking or sharing drinks in the open air.

“Sorry!” Caspar apologized as he bounded forward, scaling the fence with agile ease and landing in an athletic crouch on the other side. “Come on!” he beckoned, bidding his friends follow his example. Hilda darted after him, climbing the fence with an efficiency made all the more impressive considering she did so in heels. Sylvain went next, holding out a hand to assist Mercedes who followed in his wake. Felix gave Annette a small boost as she climbed, her short legs making her ascension difficult. No sooner had she descended did Felix leap over himself, the bar’s back door bursting open as he hit the ground.

“Wait!” the bouncers shouted, charging toward the fence. "Bergliez!" 

“Go! Go! Go!” Caspar exclaimed, turning and bolting down the adjoining alley. The others took off after him, leaving the bouncers and the chaos of the evening far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tricky chapter to write, hence the delay. I started it, scrapped the whole thing, bemoaned it for awhile, and then finally got my butt in gear. Thanks for the patience guys. I hope you enjoyed! :)


	4. In Which Annette Gets Metaphorically Lost

Felix would have given anything to be home in bed instead of squirming under the scrutinizing gaze of Ingrid Galatea. The blonde’s arms were crossed over her chest, the disapproval in her eyes radiating in a manner that was normally reserved for Sylvain. Such was not the case tonight, apparently. It would seem that starting a brawl in the middle of a busy nightclub was on the list of behaviors that Ingrid condemned.

The group had stumbled into Rodrigue’s just ten minutes after bar close, surprising an on-the-clock Ingrid who had taken one look at their disheveled appearance and immediately began asking questions. Hilda had not so accidently let slip that Felix had thrown the first punch, content to leave him with the heat while she and Caspar scuttled off to their own personal ‘after party.’ Annette and Mercedes were quick to follow, and Felix and Sylvain were left alone to deal with the interrogation.

“But what happened, _specifically?_ ” Ingrid asked for the thousandth time. “Caspar starting a fight is one thing, but you? What were you thinking, Felix?”

Felix scowled at her. He hated when she got like this—all motherly and in his business.

“I told you. Some drunk idiot was causing problems,” he muttered. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Ingrid looked skeptical. “Wasn’t a big deal, huh?” she repeated flatly. “Drunk idiots cause problems all the time and I’ve never seen you so much as bat an eye. So, what changed?”

Felix’s scowl deepened, her persistence grating on his nerves. The whole situation was made a million times worse by the wicked grin that had spread across Sylvain’s lips, a grin that spanned both hemispheres of his face.

“It _doesn’t matter_ ,” Felix growled again, determined to avoid all mention of Annette and the way he had snapped the moment she had hit the ground. “Do we have to keep talking about this?”

“Yes, we have to keep talking about this!” Ingrid confirmed. “You’ve always had a temper but it’s not like you to lose your cool _entirely_.”

“I didn’t!” Felix protested through clenched teeth. “It was one punch.”

“Two,” Sylvain put in unhelpfully. “You smoked that guy in the ribs remember? After you punched his friend in the face.”

“Shut up, Sylvain!” Felix hissed, glowering at the redhead.

“And your knuckles!” Ingrid exclaimed over their banter, gesturing at the raw, angry skin. “Yeah, that’s _definitely_ the look of someone who kept their cool.”

Felix immediately pulled his hands into his lap. “They’re _fine_ ,” he grumbled.

“Does this have anything to do with those girls?” Ingrid pressed. “Mercedes and Annette?”

“Yes,” Sylvain responded.

“No!” Felix immediately countered.

Ingrid’s eyes shone with triumph, her eyebrows arcing atop her forehead. “Really? Which one?”

“Ann—” Sylvain began, but Felix cut him off, rising so quickly he upset his barstool. It hit the ground with an indignant clatter, drowning out the rest of Annette’s name.

“I don’t have to deal with this,” he snapped. “Gossip all you want. I’m not going to be a part of it.”

He strode toward the front door, his battered knuckles throbbing in time with his heartbeat. This night needed to be done. He’d had enough irritation for one day.

“This conversation isn’t over, Felix!” Ingrid called after him, but he didn’t turn around. She would just have to content herself with whatever answers Sylvain provided. He had no doubt the redhead would embellish the story. Annette’s name would undoubtedly be mentioned.

Felix clenched his jaw and strode into the night, letting the door slam shut behind him.

He wasn’t sure why he cared.

………

Annette was not having a good day. Two nights ago, she and Mercedes had gotten into a disagreement on their way back from Rodrigue’s, one that had managed to elbow itself into the comings and goings of her life thereafter. The girls had hardly spoken since, though Annette could tell Mercedes was every bit as upset as she, as they now had more baked goods in their apartment than available counter space. The resulting silence had followed Annette around like an incessant rain cloud, dampening her mood and proving productivity impossible.

This was how she came to find herself standing once again on the railed stoop of Rodrigue’s. Her backpack was slung over her shoulder, its weight a reminder of all the things she had yet to accomplish. Perhaps here, with the quiet bustle of activity to distract her from her thoughts, she might actually be able to focus.

Annette leaned forward, her hand inches from the doorknob as she listened for the subtle sound of piano music. It was still early afternoon so the bar wasn’t likely to be busy. Perhaps Felix was playing again today. Yet the craning of her ears wrought nothing but more silence and, before someone could call the cops on account of excessive loitering, Annette sighed and stepped inside.

Rodrigue’s was every bit as quiet as she had assumed it would be. A familiar head of dark hair stood organizing whiskey bottles behind the counter, a tiny furrow of concentration creased between his brows. He glanced up as she neared.

“Hey, Felix,” Annette said morosely, dropping her bag in a jumbled heap and setting her elbows on the bar, cupping her chin in her palms. “Do you want to see my ID?”

Felix frowned, setting the whiskey aside. “No,” he answered shortly. “You look terrible.”

Annette felt her face heat up and she reached across the counter to where a conveniently discarded dishrag lay, primed and ready to be tossed at his face. As though reading her mind, Felix snatched it away, successfully thwarting her plans. She sat back, folding her arms across her chest and glowering at him.

“Thank you _so_ much for your kind observation,” she snapped.

Sleep had been difficult to come by since she and Mercie’s argument and, despite the generous amount of makeup Annette had applied to try and cover the circles beneath her eyes, they had still managed to muscle through. On top of this, it had taken her three tries to put her blouse on correctly—she kept putting her head through the arm hole—and her hair was its own sort of frizzy disaster. Looking at Felix with his perfect dark shirt, perfectly mussed ponytail, and perfectly awake eyes, Annette wondered if perhaps coming here had been a mistake after all.

“Sorry. I just meant that… I mean you usually…” Felix bit back the incoherent fragments attempting to escape his mouth as his features rearranged themselves into something resembling remorse. He tried again. “Can I get you a drink?”

Annette barely resisted a smile. “That would be nice.”

“The usual?”

“Yes please.”

Felix made a confirming sort of humming noise and reached for one of the polished glasses that lined the counter. Annette frowned as her eyes caught on the strip of coban he’d used to bandage his knuckles, the carefully adhered wrap hiding the gashes marring the skin beneath. She gnawed at her lip.

They still hadn’t had the chance to talk about what had gone down at Capers. Everything following the fight had happened so quickly. There had been the mad dash from the nightclub to Rodrigue’s, and then she’d had that disagreement with Mercie… This was the first time she and Felix had been alone since everything had happened, but now that they had time to talk, Annette found herself unusually tongue-tied. Part of her wanted to thank him for stepping in, and part of her wanted to ask why he had done so in the first place. It would have been easy to stay out of it—to let Annette fend for herself.

But he hadn’t.

“Hey.”

The girl blinked, Rodrigue’s swimming back into focus as she was pulled from her musings. Felix was looking down at her with raised brows, his fingers curled around a full glass of cider. Annette blanched.

“S-sorry!” she squeaked, nearly upsetting her barstool as she scrambled to get to her wallet.

“Careful!” Felix exclaimed, lifting the cider to safety before she could flail it off the counter. “What are you doing?”

“Finding…my…card,” Annette answered through gritted teeth, looping her fingers under the counter and leaning precariously over the edge of the stool.

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Felix said exasperatedly. “It’s on the house anyway.”

Annette froze as his words registered. Slowly she turned her head, blinking up at him.

“What?”

“Your drink?” Felix clarified, lifting the glass slightly for emphasis. “You don’t have to pay for it.”

Annette frowned, abs protesting as she lifted herself back into a proper, upright position.

“Why?” she asked. Felix shrugged and set the beverage back on the counter, apparently deeming it safe now that Annette had stopped flailing.

“Consider it an apology,” he responded. “For…uh…what I said about you looking ter—”

“I remember,” Annette interrupted grumpily, holding up her hand. Felix cleared his throat.

“Right.” He looked away, his hand moving to palm the back of his neck in a physical manifestation of his discomfort. “I’m…not always the best at words.”

Annette cocked her head, peering at him curiously. Was it her imagination or did his cheeks seem more flushed than usual? She peered closer. Felix glanced back at her, his hand drifting away from his neck.

“What?” he asked brusquely.

“Hm? Oh, nothing!”

The bartender rolled his eyes. “Or pay for it, whatever,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“No, no! Really, I appreciate it!” Annette exclaimed, lacing her fingers around the cool glass. “Your apology bribe is officially accepted!”

Felix grunted something noncommittal, but as Annette stole another glance at him, she couldn’t help but grin.

His ears were definitely pink.

…

The next hour crawled slowly by, Felix occupying himself with wiping down counters, assisting the handful of customers that came in, and not looking at Annette. This was a task much easier said than done. His eyes seemed to slide to her of their own accord, watching the way her nose scrunched in concentration as she studied the text in front of her. Idly, he wondered if she was having a hard time focusing as she’d hardly written anything in her notebook. More than once Felix caught her giving her head a shake, though whether this was to ward off sleep or something else entirely, he couldn’t say.

It was another half hour before Annette finally slammed the book closed and rose to her feet, drawing Felix’s attention away from his whiskey bottles. He watched curiously as she walked across the floor and slumped onto the piano bench before proceeding to plunk a non-sensical melody across the keys.

_“Can’t read my books, there’s angry looks in place behind my eyes. Today’s not great, stayed up too late, missing Mercie’s pies…”_

CLANG!

Felix nearly upset the bourbon.

A quick glance told him that Annette had just faceplanted the piano, her petite form curled over the keys, her eyes staring miserably at the floor.

Felix hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door.

At present, he and Annette were the only two frequenting the establishment. If fate was kind, it would stay that way a little longer.

He turned back to the piano.

Annette had begun to mumble something indecipherable into the keys.

He glanced toward the front entrance.

The door remained closed.

Felix closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and stepped out from behind the counter.

It took him three strides to reach her.

“…Is something wrong?”

This seemed a rather redundant question given the situation, but he didn’t know how else to bridge the silence. Slowly, Annette lifted her head and looked at him, her cheek hovering an inch above the keys. Their eyes had only met for a moment before she sighed and returned her forehead to the piano. The instrument released a disgruntled _phwump._

“I’m an idiot, Felix,” she mumbled. He raised a brow and his eyes lilted to the piano bench.

“Can I sit down?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm,” was the bleary response. He slid into the spot beside her.

The silence lengthened between them as Felix tried to think of something to say. Words of comfort drifted from his mind like dandelion seeds on the breeze, leaving him void of anything but irritation at his own ineloquence. But Annette was still faceplanting the piano and the kicked puppy expression on her face was doing uncomfortable things to his insides. His eyes flicked to the keys. She liked music, didn’t she? Maybe there was a way he could cheer her up without using any words at all. Taking a chance, he placed his left hand on the keyboard but hesitated upon realizing that Annette’s face was exactly where his right needed to be.

“Hey.” Felix gave her cheek a light poke. “Move your head.”

He snatched his hand away as Annette straightened much faster than he had anticipated. 

“S-sorry!” she stammered, sliding away from him and nearly tripping over her feet in her rush to rise. “I was being overdramatic. I’ll just, um…” she thumbed in the direction of her school books. Exasperation bloomed to life in Felix’s gut.

“I wasn’t telling you to leave,” he stated, his words putting pause to her retreat. “I just can’t play properly with your face on Middle C.”

Annette blinked, clearly surprised. “You were going to play?” she asked disbelievingly. “With me listening? On purpose?”

Felix felt his heart skip a beat at the glimmer of hope that sparked to life in her eyes. He looked away, his face feeling unnaturally warm.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he mumbled. “But only for you. The second someone comes in, I’m done!”

“Only…for me?” Annette repeated, the flush on her face darkening considerably. For a moment the two simply stared at each other. Then the full realization of what Felix had said hit him like a runaway train. He stood up, embarrassment moving in to the space good intentions had left behind. 

“Never mind,” he said shortly, avoiding her eyes for fear that his face actually was as red as it felt. “It was a stupid idea.” He slid out from behind the bench and took a step toward the bar.

“Wait!”

Soft fingers curled around his hand and he had a sudden flashback to Capers; to his own fingers wrapped around Annette’s as he’d steered them through the nightclub.

“Play for me?” Her question was quiet. Hopeful. “Please, Felix?”

He turned to look at her, their fingers still interlocked. And though it went against everything in his usual nature, Felix did not pull away. The embarrassment that had roared to life within him quieted, lulled by the lullaby composed inside cerulean eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But just this once. And only because I was going to anyway.”

The smile that broke across Annette’s lips was worth every second of his discomfort.

Felix immediately released her hand, returning to the bench and trading the warmth of her fingers for the familiarity of smooth ivory. Annette slid in beside him and he tried to ignore how aware he was of her shoulder pressed against his own. He cleared his throat, trying to get his brain to focus on what song to play and not how good her shampoo smelled. 

“What did you want to hear?” he asked.

“Anything,” Annette responded before a tiny frown marred her features. “Well, anything but Chopsticks.”

Felix actually laughed. “I can work with that,” he responded, turning to regard Annette.

She was already staring at him.

His smile faltered. “What?”

“Nothing!” the girl responded, her voice an octave higher than was normal. She waved her hand in the direction of the instrument. “H-hurry and play before someone walks in and ruins this!”

Felix snorted and turned back to the piano.

“We wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, gingerly resting his hands atop the keys.

“No, we would not,” Annette confirmed with an emphatic nod. The corner of Felix’s lips twitched. Exhaling softly, he called upon the music.

…

Annette was no stranger to getting lost. She got lost navigating directions. She got lost in her engineering texts. She got lost in the stupid little songs she wrote to pass the time. And she was lost now, in the beauty of Felix’s piano playing. In the way his fingers arced gracefully over the keys. In the way his lashes brushed his cheeks as he focused on the song. In the way his lips parted ever so slightly in concentration; lips that, just a moment ago, had smiled so brilliantly at her. She had gotten lost in that too. And as Felix bent over the instrument, coaxing the sweetest of melodies from the well-worn keys, Annette knew she was in trouble.

She tried to focus on the song he was playing, but her mind kept flashing back to Capers and its crowded dancefloor. She remembered the way Felix’s hand had felt wrapped around her own, and the warmth of his chest as she’d been pressed against him. This same mint scent had been prevalent then, even over the odor of alcohol and sweaty bodies.

Felix’s arm brushed hers as he shifted to a higher octave, drawing her eyes back to the bandages across his knuckles. He’d been so quick to step in and defend Mercie—

Annette’s thoughts returned to the present with an unpleasant bump as her best friend’s name crossed her mind. As she remembered that they were fighting and everything was the _worst._

It was around this time that Felix finished his song, the melody’s final notes melting into silence. He leaned away from the piano, taking his hands from the keys before immediately setting them back down, as though his fingers didn’t know what to do now that the song was over. As though they had been designed solely for the purpose of crafting beautiful music.

“I should get back to work,” he muttered. “Customers will be coming in soon.”

“O-oh, sure.”

Annette knew she shouldn’t feel disappointed. Still, for the duration of his performance, she had been able to forget her troubles, the weight of her fight with Mercie having absconded its place atop her shoulders. It had returned the moment the music had stopped./p>

“What’s wrong with you?”

Annette blinked, taken aback by the abruptness of Felix’s question.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong with me?’” she repeated, annoyance nipping at the edges of her words.

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know. Normally you’re all expressive and…enthusiastic. Now you’re just…” he trailed off.

Annette watched him gesture haplessly, struck by the impression that Felix probably did not attempt to explain himself often. If she had been feeling like her usual self, she might have made a quip regarding his less than tactful inquiry and explanation thereafter. But she wasn’t feeling like her usual self, and that, she supposed, was the problem. Annette’s gaze dropped into her lap.

“I got into a fight with Mercie,” she mumbled, her fingers twisting around each other as the words tumbled from her lips.

“What happened?”

Annette glanced up in time to catch Felix’s inquiring gaze. His head was slightly tilted, amber eyes focused on her in a way that implied genuine curiosity. It didn’t seem like he was just humoring her, though she supposed Felix wasn’t the sort of person who wasted time doing anything he didn’t want to, particularly for the sole purpose of being _nice._

“She was upset about the fight,” Annette explained. “She asked what I was thinking, jumping on that man’s back like that. Then she made it very clear that I wasn’t acting like myself, and didn’t seem to understand that I just wanted to protect y—” Annette cut herself off before the words ‘you both’ could escape her lips. She didn’t know how Felix would react to such a statement and now didn’t seem the time to experiment. “I just wanted to protect her,” she finished instead, swiping a hand hurriedly across her eyes. As if this whole situation wasn’t frustrating enough, the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. _Come on, Annette. Keep it together,_ she thought to herself.

If Felix noticed the gesture, he didn’t say so. Instead he turned back to the piano, his fingers tapping out the notes to a silent song.

“She’s your best friend, right?” he asked.

“In the whole world!” Annette responded adamantly. Felix shrugged, still tapping the keys.

“Then talk to her,” he said shortly.

Annette pressed her lips together, Mercie’s hurt expression flashing across her mind like the fuzzy afterimage left in wake of the sun. “Maybe,” she said quietly.

Felix shrugged. “I don’t know her. Not _really,_ ” he amended as Annette opened her mouth to protest. “But if she’s even half as emotional as you are, then she probably wants to talk to you too.”

Annette pouted, barely resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

“I’m not _that_ emotional,” she complained, to which Felix snorted. This time Annette really did stick her tongue out at him. “You’re the worst.”

“And _you’re_ ridiculous,” he returned, rising from the bench. “Now I actually do have to get back to work.”

“No one’s even here yet,” Annette grumbled, though she stood as well, watching as he walked toward the bar. “Felix?” His name left her lips before she could stop herself. Before her nerve could fail her. He paused, turning back and raising a brow. She exhaled. “Thank you for what you did at Capers—with the fight, I mean. I was in way over my head. I don’t know what I would have done if you and Caspar hadn’t stepped in.”

Felix shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t mention it,” he responded. “Those guys were idiots.” He glanced back at her, one side of his mouth curling in a wry smile. “Besides, from what I remember, you seemed to have things pretty well handled.”

Annette’s mind flashed back to her leap onto the drunkard’s back.

“I don’t know if I’d say _handled,_ ” she said. “A-anyway, are you sure you don’t want to play for—”

“I’m sure,” Felix interrupted with a pointed look. “Go talk to Mercedes. You’re not getting anything done here anyway.” His words, while brusque, held no actual bite. Besides, he was right. Until she made things right with Mercie, there was no way she’d be able to concentrate properly on anything. 

Annette gathered her texts and notebooks into her bag, looking up in time to catch Felix’s eyes on her.

“Good luck with Mercedes,” he said, turning back to his invoice binder.

“Thanks,” Annette responded. “See you later?”

Felix glanced up and Annette could have sworn his ears turned slightly pinker.

“…Yeah,” he answered, then promptly went back to his spreadsheets.

Annette was smiling as she left Rodrigue’s behind her, somehow already feeling a hundred times better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody!! Sorry this chapter was a little later than I planned. I got lost in Fantastical Felannie week and had to push my planned release date for this back a little xD 
> 
> [ I have a twitter now! ](https://twitter.com/NightMereBear)
> 
> I like to post story stuff and art I've done here, and sometimes I sing. Sometimes. :P If you're interested, go ahead and give me a follow! :) 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It was a little slower than the last one, but I think we all needed a breather after that fight. Anywho I hope everyone is hanging in there as best as they can and taking care of themselves!!!!


	5. In Which Annette Gets Caught in the Rain

As the last weeks of Summer began to fade into Fall, Annette attacked her studies with renewed fervor. Garreg Mach’s entrance exams were to be held on the first of November, meaning Annette only had two more months to consume as much information as she could. She was spending more time than ever at Rodrigue’s, her nose buried in her texts, surfacing every once in a while to engage in conversation with Sylvain, Felix, or Ingrid. But today she had something else entirely planned.

The change in seasons always brought with it the college fair, an event where representatives from various universities took over the downtown area, promoting their schools from behind vibrant booths while repping university apparel. Every year, local businesses from all over the city took advantage of the crowds, setting up tents and stalls of their own and selling wares that ranged anywhere from food to crafted jewelry.

She and Mercedes were on speaking terms again. It turned out that Mercedes had wanted to make amends with Annette as badly as Annette had wanted to make amends with her, and one tearful conversation later, all was put right with the world. Now here they were, making their way down the bustling city block, having left Mercie’s car in one of downtown’s many parking ramps. She had to leave early for work and Annette was more than happy to make the trek back home as she could stay and browse as long as she liked without inconveniencing Mercie.

It was a brisk day, the weather just chilly enough to warrant long sleeves. The city’s meteorologists had cautioned against rain showers for that afternoon, a claim that was reinforced by the expanse of gray sky high above their heads. It didn’t matter. Annette wasn’t about to let an ominous forecast dampen her mood. She had a cup of pumpkin tea in one hand, Mercedes beside her, and Garreg Mach University waiting just ahead. Rain or shine, it was going to be a great day.

There was only one person manning Garreg Mach’s booth when Annette and Mercedes arrived—a petite girl with curling green hair and a brightly smiling face. She waved at them exuberantly, beaming with a brilliance that made Annette wonder if the sun had come out after all. 

“Hello!” the girl said through her wide grin. “It is ever so nice to meet you! My name is Flayn! And you are…?”

“Mercedes,” Mercedes answered.

“And I’m Annette!” Annette put in.

“Splendid!” Flayn responded, clasping her hands together and somehow finding a way to grin even wider than before. “Did you have questions about the university? I would be happy to share my knowledge with you!”

“You’re a student yourself I take it?” Annette asked curiously.

“My father works at the university,” Flayn responded, as though this answered the question. She pressed on with no further clarification. “He’s here too actually. Retrieving the t-shirts that, I am afraid to report, were left in the car.”

“T-shirts?” Annette repeated, her tone sandwiched between hope and intrigue. Flayn nodded. 

“Oh yes. They were to be gifts for interested parties.” She frowned though brightened a moment later. “The other representatives will undoubtedly be back within the hour if you would like to return and claim one for yourself?”

“Absolutely!” Annette responded, nodding so enthusiastically she almost gave herself whiplash.

“Wonderful!” Flayn responded. “We will be seeing you soon then!”

“I’m just so excited, Mercie!” Annette burst out, moments after they’d left the booth behind. “I’m going to study so hard! Those test questions aren’t going to know what hit them!” She pumped a fist into the air. “You hear me test?! Annette Dominic is coming for you!”

Mercedes laughed beside her. It was musical sound, like the chiming of tiny bells. 

“I’m happy to see you so enthusiastic,” the older girl replied. “But don’t forget all the work you’ve already done. I know you’re going to be ready when the time comes.”

Annette gave her a small smile. “Thanks. I just…” she trailed off, her eyes drifting to the overcast sky.

“Annie?” Mercedes prompted.

Annette sighed away her excitement, doubt creeping in to take its place. “Mercie, what if I fail?” she asked quietly. “What if I don’t—”

“Oh, hush!”

Annette glanced up, surprised. Mercedes had swiveled to face her, a gently chiding expression on her face. 

“Annette Dominic you are a smart, hardworking, persistent young woman and I will not stand to hear you say negative things about yourself!” Mercedes stated. “I’m sure that at this very moment, you know the material better than most people will on the day of the exam! So please, don’t undermine how capable you are!”

A sheepish smile folded across Annette’s lips as her friend’s words struck a chord within her. “Okay,” she promised.

Mercedes smiled and promptly enveloped Annette in a hug that held all the comfort of a hearth in a winter storm. Annette returned the embrace, breathing in the scent of freshly baked cookies she always associated with her best friend.

“Thanks for chasing my doubts away,” she murmured.

“I’ll beat them with a stick if I have to,” Mercedes responded and Annette could hear the smile in her voice. “They have no business being anywhere near my Annie.”

It was moments like this that made Annette wonder what she had done to deserve a friend like Mercedes Martritz.

A good day, she reminded herself. This was going to be a good day and good days should not be wasted on dour thoughts. Besides, the sky already held enough rain clouds without Annette becoming one herself. She pulled away from Mercedes, grinning up at the taller girl.

“You’re right, Mercie! Today is a day for cookies, college, and best friends!” she declared. “No complaints allowed!”

Mercedes laughed, performing a tiny fist pump of her own. “Hear, hear!”

Time slipped like water off of glass as the girls eyeballed cute accessories, and indulged in free samples offered from each individual food cart. Before Annette could quite grasp where the day had gone, she found herself standing back outside the parking garage as Mercedes prepared to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re okay walking home?” Mercie asked Annette for the umpteenth time, sparing a suspicious glance for the swathe of bruised clouds forming ominously across the sky. 

“I won’t stay much longer,” Annette promised. “As soon as I get my t-shirt, I’ll be on my way.”

“Okay,” Mercedes responded, though she still sounded skeptical. “Just be careful, Annie. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“No colds allowed here!” Annette promised enthusiastically before a second glance at the sky had her hesitating. “…And if I _do_ get caught in the rain, I’ll just run really, really fast!”

Mercedes seemed mollified by this and she gave Annette one more hug before vanishing up the stairs.

The first drop of rain hit Annette square on the nose while she was still fifty feet away from the Garreg Mach booth. Her brain was still stuck on the delectable sweets she and Mercie had recently consumed, so she didn’t register who it was that had replaced Flayn at the booth until she was almost on top of him.

“Hello! Would you like to—”

The representative cut off and Annette went very, very still. That voice. She hadn’t heard it in years. Not since its owner had walked out her front door and never looked back.

Slowly, _slowly,_ her eyes met those of the shellshocked man before her. It took Annette several tries to get her voice to cooperate and when it finally did, she still only managed one word.

“Dad?”

The word felt odd on her tongue, thick as it was with dust and disuse. It was a word from another time—from a little girl who was so far removed from the current Annette that she might as well be someone else entirely. She forgot about the t-shirt. Forgot about the impending storm. She registered nothing but the man before her and the roaring in her skull as he turned and walked away.

It was like she had been thrown into the clutches of old memories, ones so thoroughly disfigured by time that she could no longer recall what had actually happened and what her nightmares had whispered to life. But she knew this feeling of freefall. The feel of her life spinning out of control. The sight of this man’s back shrinking as he moved farther and farther away. That was real. That had happened.

And it was happening again.

Annette took a step forward, and then she was off—moving through the crowd with a desperation that took her by surprise. Pedestrians shot her disgruntled looks as she shoved past them, forgetting to be polite in her rush to reach her father before he disappeared. 

Annette grit her teeth. They were nearing Aegis Avenue, the main artery of the downtown area. A row of cars lined the metered sidewalks, her father striding purposefully toward them. Annette couldn’t let him get there. If he did, she might miss her chance to—to what? She didn’t know what. She had no idea what she was going to say to Gustave Dominic when she finally caught up to him. All that mattered was that she _did_ catch up. She needed him to acknowledge her if nothing else. To note her presence. To make some kind of gesture that he saw her. Recognized her. Knew her. Something other than walking away.

He was twenty feet away. Ten.

“Dad!” Annette shouted. “Dad!”

Nothing.

Tears lined her eyes as he rounded to the driver’s side of a faded blue Tahoe and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Annette all but threw a passing couple out of her way as she struggled to reach the man she thought had vanished from her life forever.

He was pulling the door open when Annette stumbled to a stop on the vehicle’s opposite side.

_“Why won’t you look at me!?”_

The words broke from Annette, shattering the remnants of her calm like heated glass suddenly cooled. She ignored the fact that, despite the rain, this was still a bustling city block. Ignored the stares now directed her way. Her fists clenched.

_“Gustave!”_

The sound of his name finally seemed to give her father pause, and when at last he looked up, when at last his gaze met hers, there was nothing there but weariness and a glimmer of what looked like guilt.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said in that voice. That achingly familiar voice. “My name is Gilbert.”

He held her gaze the whole time. The entire damn time.

And then he slid into his car, shut the door, and drove away.

Something fractured inside Annette. Something she thought had healed a long time ago but apparently had only scabbed over. She took one step forward, then two. And then she was running down the block after the car that was rapidly fading into the worsening storm.

 _“Coward!”_ she shouted after the moving vehicle. She knew he couldn’t hear her. He probably wasn’t even watching his rearview mirror. Still, she ran after him, knowing it was a lost cause. She didn’t care. Not about the stares, the whispers, the pointing. The spectacle that was Annette Fantine Dominic chasing after a father who didn’t love her.

The Tahoe made a right turn and disappeared behind a bulwark of restaurants and office complexes. Annette chased after it, even though she had no hope of catching up. Even though he was already long gone. She ran until her toe caught a crack in the pavement and she sprawled to the ground, the unforgiving sidewalk biting into her skin. 

Annette lay still as the enormity of what had just happened pelted her with the unforgiving consistency of the rain. He had vanished again, leaving her heart as raw and bloody as her torn-up knees.

 _“I’m afraid you’re mistaken…”_ The words rang through Annette’s head with the timbre of a discordant clock tower. _“My name is Gilbert.”_

_I’m not your father._

He hadn’t spoken the words. He hadn’t had to. The message had been made clear enough. Annette swallowed a sob as cold rain soaked her skin.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you alright? Miss? Do you need me to call somebody?”

Annette blinked as reality returned in the form of an older gentleman with concern on his face and a cellphone in his hand. It was no wonder, laying on the ground as she was. With no large amount of grace, she pushed herself upright and did her best to paste on a smile.

“Oh no! You don’t need to call anyone! I’m just clumsy. Really, this happens all the time…”

She backed away, wanting to put as much distance as she could between herself and the park where everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Where her father had turned his back and walked away again.

_This happens all the time._

The painful irony of those words was not lost on Annette.

“Are you sure?” the man asked skeptically, eyeing the rain-diluted blood that dribbled from her knees, coloring the tear in her jeans a watery red.

“Completely sure,” Annette responded, shoving away the thought that this man—this stranger—cared more for her wellbeing than Gustave did. Or Gilbert. Whatever he was calling himself these days. Then, following her father’s example, she turned her back on the gentleman—on the entire block—and walked away. It didn’t matter that her apartment was in the opposite direction. All that mattered was putting as much distance between herself and this nightmare as possible. 

Annette hadn’t consciously chosen a destination, though it seemed her subconscious had chosen one for her as she found herself standing outside of Rodrigue’s. It had been a simple matter of pointing her legs in the right direction, allowing them to pick up the slack her broken mind had left behind. Annette stared at the closed sign in the window, knowing that the door was locked but unable to bring herself to move past it. It took a moment to realize that she was listening for the sound of piano music; hoping to hear the moon song that she loved so much. Yet she heard nothing but the rain sighing its steady, mournful rhythm.

It would have been easy to go back to her apartment and escape the unrelenting deluge. But with Mercie at work, the only companion she would find there was silence; a silence that would linger on the arm of old memories and breathe life into questions she could not ignore.

How long had her father been affiliated with Garreg Mach? What would he do if he found out she was applying? Did she even want to attend now that she knew he was there? Or did she want to go even more _because_ of that fact? 

“Annette?”

The girl blinked as an unexpected voice pulled her from the reaches of her mind. She turned to see Ingrid standing behind her, a set of keys in hand and inquiry on her face. For the second time that day, Annette forced a smile.

“Oh, h-hey Ingrid.” Her voice sounded wobbly even to her.

The blonde frowned. “What’s going on?” she asked, and Annette did not miss the way those observant eyes traveled to her ripped jeans and the bloody knees beneath.

“Nothing,” Annette responded unconvincingly.

Ingrid pursed her lips. “Hmm,” was her only answer. Before Annette could argue her case, the young woman strode past her, fit a key into the lock, and motioned Annette into the bar. 

“But…you guys aren’t open yet,” Annette said quietly.

Ingrid shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you out of the rain.”

No sooner had the door closed behind them, did a familiar figure step out from the back room, a large bucket of ice in his hands.

“Felix,” Ingrid began. “Can you help me out please?”

Annette immediately hung back. The part of her brain that was still functioning properly registered that she looked like a drowned rat which, considering everything that had happened that day, was probably the least of her problems. It didn’t stop her from caring anyway.

Felix glanced up, a slight frown on his face.

“What—”

And then his eyes locked on Annette. On her disheveled clothing and the scraped and bleeding knees. The ice bucket hit the counter with a resounding thud.

Not knowing what else to do, Annette lifted a hand in greeting, a gesture she instantly regretted as it exposed her battered palms. She immediately closed her fingers, but Felix’s brow was already furrowing. “What happened? You look—”

He cut himself off, perhaps before the words ‘you look terrible’ could leave his lips again. 

Annette barely noticed. Her father’s retreating back flashed across her memory, leaving her startlingly mute. How was she supposed to answer that question?

_Yes, well I accidentally ran into my dad who, coincidentally, left us a few years ago and never looked back. Now it appears he might be working for the university I’ve dreamed of going to for my entire life. Oh, and he basically said that he wasn’t my father and all but ran away when I tried to talk to him. But it's fine. This happens all the time._

“Nothing. I just got caught in the rain.”

She smiled, a physical lie to cover her verbal one.

“You got caught in the rain,” Felix repeated, his tone flat with disbelief.

“And then tripped,” Annette added, realizing she needed to account for her palms, knees, and elbows. This wasn’t even false. She _had_ tripped, she just wasn’t telling him _why_. Felix folded his arms across his chest, the ice bucket forgotten on the counter. The two stared at each other, obstinate amber eyes meeting stubborn cobalt blue. Ingrid glanced between the two of them and promptly made a beeline for the back room.

“I’m going to get the first aid kit,” she said over her shoulder. 

Annette blinked. “You don’t have—”

“Take a good look at yourself and then finish that sentence,” Felix interrupted, his eyes not leaving hers. Annette pursed her lips but made no further protests as Ingrid disappeared through the swinging door. Silence reigned in the seconds that followed and Annette fidgeted beneath its weight.

“I’m sorry I’m getting the floor all wet,” she mumbled. Felix shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

More silence.

“You can sit down, if you want,” Felix suggested gruffly. “Unless you were planning on going back ho—”

“I’m not going back to the apartment,” Annette stated, surprising herself at the finality in her tone. Felix tilted his head.

“Are…um…did you guys fight again? You and Mercedes?” he asked, hesitation brushing the edges of the words.

“No.”

Why was her voice so tremulous? Why was she having such a hard time keeping it together? She was Annette Dominic! She was stronger than this! She was more together than this!

…Wasn’t she?

_I’m afraid you’re mistaken… My name is Gilbert._

Her fists clenched and a drop of rain plummeted from her sopping hair, splattering against the umber planks below. This time it was Felix’s sigh that broke the silence and the next thing Annette knew, he had stepped out from behind the counter and started in her direction. She tensed as he drew near but he walked right past her, his sights set on the door.

“Are you leaving?”

The question was almost a whisper and Annette immediately hated herself for asking it. Felix paused, looking over his shoulder and meeting her gaze. There was something in his eyes that Annette couldn’t quite place. Concern yes, and no small amount of curiosity. But there was something else too. Something warm that helped dissuade the chill in her bones.

“You’re soaked,” he said quietly. “I have a dry sweatshirt in my car. If you want.”

It was the gentlest she’d ever heard him sound. 

Annette lowered her gaze, afraid she was going to cry all over again.

“That would be… Yes, please,” she managed. 

Felix nodded. “I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Alright.”

She watched the door as it closed behind him, then opened a minute later to reveal a slightly damper Felix with a large black sweatshirt tucked protectively in his arms.

“Here,” he said brusquely, holding it out to her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her fingers brushing his as she took the sweatshirt from him.

Felix’s frown deepened. “You’re trembling.”

Annette blinked, looking down at her hands. There were a number of things she could have said to this. Excuses she could have made: She was cold from the rain. She hadn’t slept well. She’d drank her pumpkin latte too fast.

“L-look at that!” was what actually came out of her mouth and she stared at her hands like she had never seen her own fingers before. Felix took a step closer.

“What happened?” he asked again. His voice was low. Insistent.

Annette opened her mouth. Closed it.

 _Don’t look at him,_ she thought, dropping her eyes to the floor. _Don’t look at him. If you look at him, you’re going to lose it._

“N-nothing!” she whispered, staring more determinedly at a plank of wood than she ever had in her life. Felix took another step. She could see his shoes now; he was standing _that_ close. They were black, with a tiny scuff on the right toe.

_Don’t look at him._

Annette squeezed her eyes shut and immediately saw her father’s car getting farther and farther away.

“Hey.”

It was this quiet word from Felix that was her undoing. Annette’s hand clapped over her mouth, stifling the sob that burst from her lips. Her shoulders shook as tears slid down her cheeks in earnest, dampening skin already soaked from the rain.

“Annette…”

Her name was hesitant on Felix’s lips, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he lifted his arm, his hand hovering indecisively over her shoulder. When at last he set it down, his touch was warm against her skin and Annette found herself closing the distance between them, resting her forehead against his chest. Felix tensed at the gesture but did not push her away. Instead, he slowly moved his hand from her shoulder to the top of her head, mindless of her rain-drenched hair. No words of comfort left his lips, but he held her as she cried, and that alone was comfort enough.

Neither of them noticed Ingrid slip in from the back, place the first aid kit on the counter, and vanish once more through the swinging door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooooo!!! Its posted!!! How oddly appropriate that it is raining today where I am. How on point with what happens in this chapter. Thanks universe for your consideration. Thank YOU guys for your patience on the time between updates. Lots of projects going on right now so sometimes balancing everything can be difficult. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed it and I hope you all are taking care of yourselves and doing what you have to do for that mental health!! Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I will see you in the next chapter! :)
> 
> I have a [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/NightMereBear) if you like that sort of thing :D


	6. In Which Felix Makes Soup

Annette woke that morning with a bleary head and a stuffy nose. She felt warm, her limbs heavy as she groaned and brought a hand to her forehead. Mercedes had picked her up from Rodrigue's the previous evening and the two had stayed up talking late into the night. Her nose had started to run somewhere around midnight (something Mercedes had picked up on right away) but as Annette had continued to talk about everything regarding her father, the potential of a silly cold had quickly been forgotten.

Memories of last night sifted sluggishly through Annette’s brain, her mind taking longer than usual to process everything that had happened. She never would have guessed that the day was going to end with her sitting in the backroom of Rodrigue’s, tucked onto a fold-up chair while Felix knelt in front of her, gently pressing bandages over the gashes on her knees. Annette had tried to apply them herself but her hands had been trembling so badly that she’d dropped the first two and before she could drop a third, Felix had taken over. Her sopping blouse she had privately discarded in favor of Felix’s dry sweatshirt, the dark fabric completely dwarfing her small frame.

Annette’s eyes drifted to where the sweatshirt now lay on her bedroom floor and, ignoring the way her head was swimming, she reached over and pulled the bundle into her lap. Her finger traced the seams as she remembered how it had felt to rest her head against Felix’s chest, the warmth of his body keeping her chills at bay. She closed her eyes and buried her face in the material, trying to focus on everything good that was Felix Fraldarius to block out everything heartbreaking that was Gustave Dominic.

There was a sudden knock on her bedroom door and Annette jerked her head back, the words ‘come in’ barely having left her lips before Mercie was walking into her room. Her friend paused at the sight of the sweatshirt in Annette’s lap, but if she found it intriguing, she didn’t say so out loud.

“Good morning, Annie,” Mercedes chirped, crossing the floor and perching on the side of the bed. She was already dressed in her work scrubs, looking perfectly awake despite the fact that she couldn’t have gotten any more sleep than Annette had.

“M-morning Mercie,” Annette responded, trying to speak through the yawn that had taken over half her face. Mercedes was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching.

“How are you feeling this morning?” she finally asked, tilting her head in a way that told Annette she already knew the answer. 

“Umm…” Annette began, though before she could fish up an appropriate half-truth, Mercedes had placed a palm against her forehead.

“Annie, you’re burning up!”

Annette drew back. “What? No, I’m not!”

Mercedes gave her a look that was pure motherly exasperation. “I think I have seen enough sick people to know what I’m talking about,” she chided gently. Annette’s shoulders slumped. As usual, Mercie was right.

Mercedes glanced at the bedside clock, her lips pressing into a line. “I’ll see if I can get off early tonight,” she said. “Even just a bit.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Annette protested. “Really, I don’t even feel that bad!”

Mercedes raised a disbelieving brow. “Please do me a favor and stay in bed. You had a really trying day yesterday and I think this is your body’s way of saying that you need to rest. Physically _and_ mentally,” she told her. Annette sank back against her pillows, her shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Good,” Mercedes replied. “Get plenty of sleep! I’ll be quite cross if I come back and that backpack has moved.”

“I won’t touch it,” Annette said solemnly. “I promise.”

Mercedes nodded, seemingly appeased. “Alright.” She rose to her feet and moved toward the door, only to pause one step from the hallway. “There are ingredients for soup in the fridge, but don’t fret about making it if you’re not feeling well. We have plenty of leftovers.”

Annette couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s fussing. “I’ll be just fine, Mercie. Really,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“The most sure!”

Mercedes smiled and drummed manicured fingers on the doorframe “Sweet dreams, Annie.”

Annette nodded, sinking into her pillows and closing her eyes as her friend shut the door. The sound of fading footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the jangling of keys and a creak from the front door as Mercie left the apartment behind. 

Annette immediately sat up.

Her eyes went straight to her backpack—the one she had distinctly promised Mercedes she would not move—her head throbbing painfully at the movement. She knew it was in her best interest to lie back down and sleep this whole thing off, but her entrance exams were looming closer with every passing second and she had to make those seconds count.

Annette slid off the mattress and plodded toward her dresser with slow, lethargic steps, as if her room had been suddenly flooded with water. Somehow, she got her clothes on properly—though it took two tries as she didn’t realize her blouse was inside out until she stepped in front of her mirror.

One spilled cup of juice and a stubbed toe later, Annette was finally out the door, her usual backpack left behind in favor of the satchel that hung at her side. It was white with pink buckles and multi-colored music notes tumbling across the surface, its borders elaborately embroidered with tiny, rose-colored hearts. Annette had brought this bag along in deference to her promise not to move the other one, though she couldn’t help feeling guilty anyway. She knew exactly what Mercedes had meant when she’d said to leave the bag alone and Annette was doing the opposite. Perhaps there would be time to rest eventually… she just had to get her studying done first.

It was a beautiful day, the sun climbing bright and cheerful in the sky, winking merrily down at the world as if to compensate for last night’s storm. A crisp breeze danced through the air and Annette pulled her jacket tighter around her, wishing she had thought to grab some tissues on her way out the door. Napkins would do the job too of course, but they were never quite as kind to her nose.

The downtown area was quiet at this hour of the morning, the sleepy streets just beginning to show signs of activity as residents stirred from their homes and coffee shops unlocked their doors. Annette planned on holing herself up in one such shop for the next several hours, determined to make it through the day on a diet of caffeine and willpower.

The Dancing Bean was only a block away from Rodrigue’s, and it was thanks to this close proximity that Annette had stumbled upon the bar in the first place. Of course, thinking about Rodrigue's made her think about Felix, and thinking about Felix made her think about warm arms, amber eyes, and hair the color of midnight…

Annette gave her head a firm shake—something she immediately regretted as a fresh wave of dizziness nearly bowled her over. Thinking about Felix Fraldarius was clearly bad for her health and she would abstain from doing so immediately for the sake of her wellbeing. She was already spacy enough without thoughts of the surly bartender making things worse. As the entrance to The Dancing Bean drew near, Annette promised herself that she would keep her thoughts to her studies and her studies alone.

Ten minutes later found her sitting at a booth in the corner of the café, a steaming mug of tea resting atop a table practically buried beneath her mountain of textbooks. She had chosen a spot by the window, preferring to work in the natural light streaming in through the glass. Forty minutes in, however, she found herself wondering if she should have picked a warmer spot as small chills had begun to ripple up and down her body. Annette scooted away from the window, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders and taking another sip of tea in hopes that this would solve the problem.

It didn’t.

The more seconds that ticked by, the more Annette shivered and the heavier her eyelids felt. The words she was supposed to be reading began to swim across the page and she blinked several times in an attempt to make them stay put. Another twenty minutes passed before her handwriting began to drift down the paper, her eyelids drooping beneath an impossible weight. She rested her head in the crook of her arm, hoping this might help to assuage the way her temples were pulsing in time with her heart. It certainly _felt_ more comfortable. Perhaps she could stay like this just…a little…longer…

…

Felix Fraldarius was annoyed. This was by no means an unusual state of mind, but that didn’t make it any less obnoxious. It was redecorating day at Rodrigue’s—one of four terribly inconvenient times of the year when he, Ingrid, and Sylvain spent the entire morning switching up the bar’s décor to correlate with the coming season. Felix did not particularly care if the bar looked seasonal or not, especially since the whole project had been his father’s idea and the man was certainly not going to be showing up to help them out.

Unfortunately for Felix, Ingrid was quite the tradition enforcer—almost more than Rodrigue himself—and would certainly not be adhering to any protests. And so it was that in an hour’s time, Felix would inevitably find himself up to his eyeballs in pumpkins and plastic leaves, his nostrils saturated in the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. He would face this fate, but not before drinking at least one cup of coffee. For mornings like these, the energy boost was almost as necessary as breathing. 

A small bell jingled from the depths of The Dancing Bean as he stepped through the door, stifling a yawn before strolling up to the counter. “Black coffee, extra shot,” he muttered to the barista who—in Felix’s opinion—had an exorbitant amount of energy for that hour of the morning. No one could smile that widely and actually mean it. At least Felix couldn’t. There was a chance that he was just grouchy from lack of sleep; thoughts of Annette and her tear-streaked face having kept him awake well into the night. She had never told him what it was that had bothered her so much and he hadn’t asked. Despite his curiosity and, if he was being honest, his concern, he hadn’t wanted to pry into her personal affairs.

“Sir? Your change?”

Felix blinked, the barista’s handful of coins swimming into focus as his mind returned to the present. He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his uncharacteristic spaciness.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the coins and dropping them into the mug turned tip jar. The barista beamed at him and passed a steaming cup across the counter.

“Have a good day!” she trilled. Felix grunted in acknowledgement, turned around, and almost dropped his coffee.

Annette was slumped across the surface of a corner table, her hair falling into her face, her cheek pressed against a sheet of notebook paper. He had almost missed her completely, hidden as she was behind her usual tower of books. Felix took a step forward, then another and another until he was striding across the floor, pulling up just short of her table. She didn’t so much as twitch. Felix frowned, doubting that a nap was what she’d had in mind upon coming here.

“Annette,” he murmured. “Hey.”

Annette mumbled something indecipherable, shifting in place and revealing an ink-smudged cheek—a mark she’d doubtless acquired from the ‘pillow’ beneath her head. She did not open her eyes.

“Hey,” Felix tried again, a little louder this time. When she still did not respond he placed his free hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. “Annette!” This seemed to do the trick as her blue eyes finally opened and she blinked blearily up at him.

“Felix?” she mumbled. “What…?” She groggily sat up, looking from him to her notebook and back again. 

“What are you doing?” Felix asked. 

“I…studying,” she responded. Her voice sounded like she’d recently gargled gravel.

“Really?” Felix inquired. “I could have sworn you were taking a nap.”

Annette frowned at him and for a split second, some of her usual energy sparked to life in her eyes. “Don’t be a jerk, Felix!” she exclaimed, pushing her chair back and rising to her feet. “That’s not even— Whoa…” Annette cut off, swaying as dangerously as the precariously stacked texts beside her.

“H-hey, careful!” Felix exclaimed, barely managing to set his coffee down before she tumbled into his arms.

“I’m fine,” Annette mumbled, answering his question before he could ask it. Her voice was muffled by his chest, their sudden close proximity reminding Felix sharply of the previous evening. He shook his head, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“You must really think I’m an idiot,” he mumbled, steadying her with one hand while placing the other against her forehead. Its warmth had him hissing through his teeth. “Annette, you’re burning up!”

“I’m f—”

“You’re not fine!”

“But—”

“You’re really going to tell me there’s nothing wrong with you?” he interrupted, drawing back while maintaining his hold on her arms. “Or maybe cafes really _are_ just that great for napping.” Annette pressed her lips together and glanced to the side, avoiding his gaze entirely. When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to respond, Felix sighed and guided her back into the chair. “Just…go home and rest,” he muttered.

“But…I have to study,” Annette protested. “The exam—”

“Isn’t for two more months, if I recall correctly,” Felix interrupted. “Which I do.”

Apparently, Annette still had enough energy to stick her tongue out at him. He gave her a flat look.

“You can’t tell me you were getting anything done,” he said bluntly. “Not while you were napping. Honestly, if you’re going to fall asleep anyway, just do it in your bed at home.”

A lengthy silence stretched between them, but in the end, it was Annette’s shoulders that slumped in defeat.

“Okay,” she whispered, making to rise.

“Stay there,” Felix said crossly, wary of her toppling over again. “I’ll get your books.”

He gathered the hefty tomes and slid them into her satchel, noting with mild interest that it was different than the one she usually carried. A second later he wondered why he knew that.

“Um, I can take my bag,” Annette offered, rising shakily to her feet. Instead of giving it to her, Felix slung it over his shoulder, wishing for a moment that the craftsman had been just a little less generous with the hearts.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’ll keel over,” he stated. Annette looked like she was going to protest, then seemed to think better of it. He gestured for her to walk ahead and she did so, sparing a wave for the barista on the way out. Felix grabbed the door before Annette could walk into it, breathing a sigh as she stumbled through the doorframe anyway.

Somehow, he got her to his car in one piece, and it was a testament to how ill she must be feeling that she didn’t protest the ride. He slid into the driver’s seat, sparing her a quick glance as he fastened his seatbelt.

“Can you give me directions?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied. “It’s not far.”

Felix pulled into the road, Annette pointed in the proper direction, and they were off. 

“Do you go to that café a lot?” Annette asked. Felix shrugged.

“I was supposed to go into work this morning. The coffee was to dull the unavoidable headache,” he muttered, picturing Ingrid the Seasonal Decorations Dictator clearly in his mind. He had already felt his phone buzz twice since running into Annette. His friends were undoubtedly wondering where he was and he should probably send them a text sooner rather than later.

“You’re supposed to be at work!?”

It was the most energetic Annette had sounded all morning. Of course, _that_ was what she would be concerned about. Not her fever. Or the fact that she could hardly stand up straight.

“It’s fine,” Felix answered shortly. “There aren’t customers or anything.” Annette didn’t look convinced so he decided to change the subject. “Does Mercedes know you’re sick?”

Annette’s nervous laugh had him raising his eyebrows. “Yeeeeeeah,” she responded, the word drawn out. “She um, might have told me to stay in bed today… and to take a break from studying.”

Felix shot her a quick glance before turning back to the road. “She has no idea you’re out right now, does she?” he asked.

“Nope.” 

“…You are something else.”

Three minutes later they were turning onto Annette’s block and Felix slid the car into an open space across from the apartment complex.

“Thanks for the ride,” Annette said, resting her hand on the door and bequeathing him with a tired smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt. “Stay there for a second,” he said before stepping out of the vehicle, circling around to the passenger’s side, and opening her door. She blinked up at him.

“What are you doing?” Annette asked and there was something about her big blue eyes that made his throat suddenly dry. Felix coughed and shoved his hands into his pockets, inexplicably embarrassed. He should have just stayed in the car. 

“You were swaying all over the place before,” he responded gruffly. “The least I can do is make sure you don’t tip over.”

“I’m not going to tip over,” Annette protested, pushing herself out of the vehicle and pointedly ignoring his proffered hand. Felix did not miss the way her fingers moved toward the side of the car before abruptly freezing, stopping herself from using its support. Her lips thinned into a determined line and she stepped forward.

“Wa—Annette, hold on!”

Felix’s hand darted out, closing around Annette’s wrist and pulling her backward. She stumbled and likely would have capsized completely if Felix hadn’t been there to catch her. A second later a car roared past, the driver shooting them a pointed glare through the window. Felix promptly flipped him off. He turned Annette to face him as the vehicle disappeared around the bend, giving her a quick once-over.

“You won’t tip over but you will walk into oncoming traffic?” he asked dryly once he was satisfied that she hadn’t been injured. Felix was expecting a waspish retort, but Annette just looked dazed. There was a vacancy in her eyes that he didn’t like at all and she still looked as though the slightest breeze might knock her over.

“I didn’t even see him,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden today…”

“You’re not a burden, you’re sick,” Felix retorted, her puppy-dog expression doing uncomfortable things to his insides. His face was suddenly much warmer than it had any business being and for a second, he wondered if he was coming down with a fever too. Felix glanced toward the apartment complex. “Let’s just get you inside.”

Two hallways and a flight of stairs later, Felix found himself standing outside of Annette’s front door, watching as she fished through her satchel for the apartment key. (He had relinquished the bag to her only after they’d left the stairs behind). She stepped past him, inserted the key in the lock, and pushed the door open, glancing behind her when Felix didn’t immediately follow her inside. It might have been the fever, but he could have sworn her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

“You can come in if you want,” she told him. Felix hesitated, realized hovering in the hallway was decidedly _more_ awkward than simply going inside, and promptly strode across the threshold.

The quaint apartment was comprised of a kitchen, a living room, and a hallway that lead back to the bed and bath rooms. The walls were lined with photos of Mercedes, Annette, and people who could only be family or friends, and the whole place smelled distinctly of baked goods.

There was a thump as Annette set her bag on the floor and sneezed three times consecutively. 

“…You should lie down,” Felix told her. “You’re going to tip over.”

“I will, I will,” Annette responded unconvincingly. “I just…I have to make soup first.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Annette turned and took a small sheet of paper from off the countertop upon which a list had been written in neat, curvy lettering. She held it out to him. “Soup,” Annette repeated. “Mercie left me the recipe. First the soup, then the sleep.”

“Huh,” Felix said, his eyes narrowing skeptically. “Sounds a lot like what you probably told Mercedes before she left today,” he continued, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the counter.

Guilt sparked in the fog of Annette’s eyes. “Oh…” she trailed of. “Yeah, um…it…probably does. But I mean it this time! Really! _Really_ really!”

Felix contemplated her. She was lying, of course. He knew that the moment he left the apartment behind she would jump back into her books, pushing her exhausted body past its limits and exacerbating the fever even further. And why was that any of his business, he asked himself. If Annette was okay making herself sicker for the sake of her studies, who was he to stop her? He should have been at Rodrigue’s an hour ago anyway.

But when Felix finally did push himself away from the counter it wasn’t the front door that he moved toward, but Annette. Before she could stop him—and before he’d fully grasped what he was doing—he reached out and plucked the recipe from her fingers.

“Lie down,” he told her again. “I’ll make it.”

Annette’s eyes widened. “You’ll… _What!?_ But I can’t—You can’t—I can’t let you do that!” she protested, trying to reclaim the slip of paper.

“Calm down,” Felix retorted, holding the recipe high above his head. Annette tried to make a grab for it and immediately sagged against the counter. Felix shook his head. “You can’t even stand up properly and you obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself. Just…think of it as doing Mercedes a favor. I’m sure she’d be glad to see you taking care of yourself.”

Annette’s expression lightened into something contemplative. “That’s…true,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Felix shrugged. “It is what it is,” he mumbled. “Just hurry up and let yourself get better. Seeing you like this is…irritating.” 

Annette’s lips parted in surprise and Felix looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t entirely sure where those words had come from.

“Alright,” Annette relented at last. “But at least let me get the ingredients out for you.”

“I’ll manage,” Felix retorted. “Rest.”

“But—”

“Annette.”

She frowned but he did not back down.

“Fine,” she mumbled at last, bending to pick her bag up off the floor.

“And leave that there!” Felix added, quickly slipping the strap from her fingers and looping it over his shoulder. “You clearly can’t be trusted with it.”

Annette glared at him, reminding Felix of a puppy who’d been thwarted out of a treat.

“You’re the worst,” she mumbled.

“Bed,” Felix responded, nodding in the direction of the hallway. Her shoulders slumped and she managed a final glare before shuffling away. Felix watched her disappear into her room, waiting until the door shut before pulling out his phone. A handful of inquiring texts from Ingrid and Sylvain stared accusingly up at him. He fired a quick message into their group chat before sliding his phone back into his pocket and turning to the recipe. He would definitely have some explaining to do later. 

…

Annette didn’t have to touch her face to know it was on fire, though whether this was due to illness or the fact that Felix Fraldarius was currently making soup in her kitchen remained entirely up for debate. She hadn’t forgotten the way his arms had felt when she’d stumbled in the café, or how ridiculous he’d looked with her satchel slung over his shoulder. She thought about how he had helped her at Capers and the way he’d listened during her fight with Mercie. Then there was the way the world seemed to fade every time he sat down at the piano and, as if all that was not enough, now she had the memories of last night to contend with too. 

Annette rolled over and stared at the sweatshirt still lying beside the bed. Felix’s sweatshirt: Warm and soft and smelling of mint and spiced tea leaves.

Was she starting to like Felix Fraldarius? Was that what was happening here?

Annette groaned and buried her face in her pillow, arm slung over the side of the bed. She didn’t have time for feelings, not with entrance exams looming so close. She could not, _would not_ , waste any more thoughts on Felix Fraldarius than was absolutely necessary. No matter what.

With that resolute thought in mind, Annette rolled back toward the wall, pulled the blankets up over her head, and drifted off to sleep.

A soft knock on the door pulled Annette from her dreams and she blearily sat up, blinking the weariness away. 

“Come in!” she called, wincing at the ‘parched toad’ timbre of her voice. The door creaked as it was shouldered open and a moment later Felix appeared. Perhaps it was a side effect of her sleep-induced brain, but for the span of several seconds, all Annette could do was ponder how odd it was to see him standing in her doorframe. He was balancing a steaming bowl of soup in one hand and she didn’t miss the way his eyes roved around the room, sliding from her desk, to her wardrobe, to the little television mounted on the wall, and lastly to Annette herself. He hesitated, as though wary of actually stepping into the room. Yet there was no other way for Annette to get her meal—short of him lobbing it at her—and it was likely with this thought in mind that he shuffled to her bedside.

“It’s hot,” he said, carefully holding out the bowl. “Don’t drop it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Annette mumbled, trying not to think about the way her fingertips brushed his as she took the proffered food. Soft wisps of steam rose up from the broth, tickling her face and bringing the scent of poultry and steamed vegetables.

“It’s chicken noodle,” Felix stated, as though concerned she wouldn’t be able to tell. Annette felt his eyes on her as she lifted a spoonful to her lips, his expression surprisingly trepidatious. She took a bite and savory flavors burst to life across her tongue, mixing together in a medley that sent warmth tingling all the way down to her toes. She smiled up at him, spoon poised above the bowl in preparation for another helping.

“It’s delicious!” she exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Felix. You really didn’t have to...”

Felix shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he replied. Annette took another bite of soup to spare herself a response. Her heart had started its hammering all over again and her face was getting warmer by the second. If she _did_ end up fainting, at least she could blame it on the fever.

“Are you feeling any better?” Felix asked. “Your face looks pretty red.”

Well of course it did.

“Um, yeah,” Annette responded, which was mostly the truth. “I was able to sleep a little… and the soup is helping.”

Felix cleared his throat. “That’s good.”

“…Did you want any?” Annette asked. “I mean, are you hungry?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Okay,” Annette replied.

Felix hadn’t moved from his place in the middle of the room and while Annette didn’t want him to leave, she’d also noticed how stiffly he was standing. It was almost as if he was competing with the floor lamp beside him to see which of the two could appear more rigid. “You can sit down…if you want,” she told him.

“I don’t mind standing,” he replied. His eyes drifted to the end of the bed as he said this and he quickly looked away again.

“W-well it’s making me feel weird,” Annette protested. “At least sit in the desk chair…or something.”

For a moment she thought he might argue, then Felix sighed and grabbed the wooden chair, setting it backwards beside the bed and sitting with his arms folded across the top.

“Better?” he asked shortly.

“Mm-hmm,” Annette confirmed.

A brief silence followed as she took another bite of soup. She couldn’t help but notice that there was something quizzical about the way Felix was looking at her. A question seemed to linger in his eyes, one he couldn’t quite decide how to voice. Considering everything that had happened the day before, Annette wasn’t surprised. Her spoon clinked softly as she set it back in the bowl and as her eyes rose up to meet his, Felix immediately looked away.

“I saw my father at the fair.”

Annette wasn’t entirely sure where those words had come from. She only knew that yesterday had been awful, and Felix had been there, and he was here now, and she still hadn’t given him any sort of explanation as to why Ingrid had found her standing in the pouring rain. Now that she thought about it, that was probably the whole reason she was sick in the first place.

Felix’s brows lifted though he said nothing, clearly waiting for her to say more. Annette’s fingers tightened on the bowl in her lap.

“It had…been a while,” she continued.

Felix studied her. “Bad terms?” he finally asked.

“He left,” Annette responded. “I didn’t expect to see him at all. Ever. And then…there he was.” She thought of his car driving away. “It didn’t go well.”

Felix was silent for a moment before he shifted in the chair and turned his eyes to the wall. “My old man’s not around much either,” he said quietly. “Rodrigue’s is his, but he spends so much time with Dim—he spends so much time away that it might as well be mine.”

Annette stared at him, more comforted than she could express that he had borne enough of his soul to match what she had exposed of her own. She didn’t ask what he had started to say. Didn’t ask why he’d cut himself off. She would save that for another time; when the weight of yesterday’s events hung less heavily around her shoulders. She met his eyes and gave him the smallest of smiles.

“Dad’s can really suck, huh?” she asked. To her surprise and delight, his lips twitched in response.

“Yeah.”

…

Mercedes stifled a yawn as she walked into her apartment, the long hours of the day having left their mark. The pleasant scent of cooked vegetables and chicken broth greeted her at the door, and she glanced at the clean dishes sitting in the drying rack, pleased to see that Annette must have been feeling well enough to cook after all.

“Annie?” she called softly, setting her purse down on the counter and turning toward Annette’s room. She could hear music and voices emanating from within, likely from a movie or television show. “Are you feeling better?” She pushed the door open and stopped in her tracks.

Annette was curled up exactly where she’d been that morning, though she was not alone. Felix Fraldarius was sitting on top of the comforter, his back against the wall, Annette’s head resting peacefully on his shoulder.

She was sound asleep.

Felix glanced up at her sudden arrival, but before he could move Mercedes shook her head, placing a finger over her lips and winking at him. She backed out of the room as quietly as she could, leaving the door cracked behind her.

It was good to see the day had been productive after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaaaaaaaaaaaah well this is belated. Sorry guys!!! Lots of projects going on!!! Sometimes simply 'for fun' stories like this one get pushed to the back burner T_T BUT I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!! This was one of the ones I had been looking forward to writing since coming up with the story's concept so I hope it was enjoyable!! 
> 
> Here's my [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/NightMereBear) for anyone interested in following more art/writing/singing shenanigans! Looking forward to seeing you all in the next installment! :D <3 Hope everyone is hanging in there and taking care of themselves!!


	7. In Which Annette Receives an Invitation

Sylvain was smiling again.

Felix was doing his best to ignore it as it was a Friday evening and Rodrigue’s was already hopping. Yet despite the hustle and bustle, Sylvain had still managed to catch Felix’s eye and waggle his eyebrows suggestively no less than seven times.

“Sylvain, go collect the empty glasses,” Ingrid ordered flatly the eighth time this occurred. "We're getting low."

“Anything for you, Ing,” Sylvain responded and immediately made a beeline for the table with the most girls. Ingrid sighed and shook her head.

“What did you expect?” Felix muttered, swiping a dollar from the counter and dropping it into the tip bucket. Ingrid lifted her brows.

“Really Felix? _You’re_ going to ask _me_ questions?” she asked. Felix scowled and closed his mouth.

Unfortunately, he'd had to tell Ingrid and Sylvain exactly why he'd missed decorating yesterday. Sylvain had not stopped smiling since. 

Ingrid had taken pity on him, obviously aware of the deluge of inquiry that was hurricane Sylvain. This wasn’t to say that she wasn’t curious herself, she was just more subtle about it. The last thing Felix wanted to do was ruin that subtlety by goading her into asking questions; questions that would undoubtedly revolve around feelings and other equally irritating things. Besides, it wasn’t like Felix was short on things to do. There were already at least three customers standing at the bar and staring at him expectantly; like he had nothing better to do in the world than cater to their needs. It was annoying, but it was a convenient annoyance. As long as the rush kept up, Felix could use it as an excuse to ignore any more uncomfortable conversations regarding Annette. 

His strategy worked for a while, that is until Sylvain asked if he was expecting someone since he—apparently—kept glancing at the door. Felix snapped back that no, he wasn’t expecting anyone and ‘why don’t you just do your damn job, Sylvain?’ If the words were even more irritable than usual, Felix didn’t care.

Except of course he cared.

He cared because—as infuriating as it was—Sylvain had hit the nail on the head. Sort of. Felix really wasn’t _expecting_ anyone in particular to walk through the door, he just hoped that Annette would.

Last evening had been…unexpected. There had been the soup and then the movie, and somewhere in between those things Felix had found himself sitting on Annette's bed. Of course, twenty minutes into the film she had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he’d spent the next hour trying not to breathe too aggressively for fear of waking her up. The ending credits were halfway through when she’d finally opened her eyes, and Felix had taken the opportunity to say goodnight and slip away.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

Annette was likely still recovering from her cold and, if Mercedes had any say, would not be strolling through the door that evening. Felix kept looking at it anyway, growing more irritated with himself at every furtive glance. Even if Annette _did_ show up, Sylvain would only pester her with stupid questions and insinuations. It was probably for the best that she didn’t come.

“…lix. Felix!”

Felix blinked and glanced at Ingrid. Her arms were folded and there was a clear expression of exasperation on her face.

“What?”

“You’ve been glaring at that drink for the past thirty seconds. Were you going to give it to the customer or were you planning on drinking it yourself?” she asked dryly. Felix lifted the cocktail so aggressively that a small portion sloshed over the side and splattered across his shoes. Fortunately, the recipient didn’t seem to notice.

“Everything okay?” Ingrid asked, moving to stand beside him as the girl grabbed her drink and sauntered away.

“Fine.” Felix’s reply was little more than a grunt and he was relieved when Ingrid didn’t press the question. He was in no mood to explain how Annette had occupied his mind like some sort of cat burglar, one that replaced rational thought with silly songs—songs that he had caught himself humming _twice_ now. He had to get a handle on this soon or—

The front door swung open and, like clockwork, Felix glanced toward it. This time, a familiar face did step into the bar, but it certainly was not Annette’s.

Dorothea Arnault waved as she moved across the floor, the click of her heels drawing eyes from all corners of the room and her magnetic smile keeping them there. She was followed by a handful of others, all of whom were laughing, chatting, and occasionally bursting into song. Definitely Dorothea’s castmates, Felix thought to himself. People didn’t usually start singing for no reason.

An image of Annette flashed through his head. Well, _most_ people anyway.

“Excellent! Good tips tonight!”

Felix glanced up to see that Sylvain had noticed the new arrivals and was already wearing his most charming grin. He stepped up to the bar and immediately winked at Dorothea who returned the gesture with a brilliant smile of her own. It was true: customers really did tip better on the nights that Dorothea was present as the quality of music always improved dramatically.

Good, Felix found himself thinking. A distraction for Sylvain. Perhaps Dorothea would be enough to make him drop the subject of Annette entirely—at least for the remainder of the evening. There was no way it would be a permanent fix. 

“Dorothea! You’re looking gorgeous as always. How goes the show?” Sylvain asked, leaning his elbows on the counter and fixing the woman with a coy grin. Felix could hear Ingrid’s derisive snort from where she stood five feet away.

“Oh, it’s coming together,” Dorothea sighed. “I’m just ignoring how close we are to opening night, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you’ll be magnificent as always,” Sylvain told her. “Nothing to worry about.”

Dorothea’s lip curled. “Thank you, Sylvain. That’s sweet,” she said in a tone that implied she saw right through his flirtations. Sylvain beamed and Felix rolled his eyes. They played this game every time Dorothea came in: Sylvain was coy, Dorothea indulged him, Ingrid rolled her eyes, and Felix ignored them all.

“And how are _you_ this evening?”

At least, Felix _tried_ to ignore them all. This time, Dorothea’s question was so obviously directed at him that he had little choice but to answer.

“Fine.” he busied himself with the empty glasses that had been deposited on the counter.

“You’ll have to excuse him, Dorothea,” Sylvain said, a little too innocently. “Felix is a little distracted today. One-word answers are all you can expect.”

“Distracted?” Dorothea repeated, her interest clearly piqued. “And why might that be?”

“Sylvain don’t—” Felix began, rounding on his friend. Sylvain ignored him.

“Our little Felix has found himself a lady friend,” Sylvain said. “Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Stop lying, Sylvain!” Felix snarled, his hands too full of empty glassware to do much more than glower.

“Is it a lie though?” Sylvain asked, his voice pitching upward, the devil’s own grin stretched across his face.

“Yes!”

“Aw, methinks the lad doth protest too much,” Dorothea cooed, her eyes sparkling with laughter. Felix glared.

“This is a waste of time,” he growled. “You’re both idiots.”

He stormed away, fully aware that Sylvain would probably take the opportunity to tell Dorothea all about Annette. Well, Felix didn’t have to stick around to hear it. Sylvain could handle all the drinks for Dorothea and her crew. He wanted nothing to do with their gossip.

The next hour passed with less incident. It didn’t take long for Dorothea to commandeer the mic—which was all well and good with Felix as it kept her attention from him. Besides, her voice wasn’t completely unfortunate to listen to. It was different than Annette’s, and while Dorothea’s songs were pleasant, they didn’t linger in his mind in quite the same way. 

He glanced at the door again.

What in the world was wrong with him? Why wouldn’t Annette get out of his head? Why could he focus on nothing but her dumb songs? He’d even dreamt about them last night—once he’d finally fallen asleep. (It had taken a while. He’d been kept awake with thoughts of how nice Annette’s hair had smelled and how soft her cheek had felt against his shoulder).

The most infuriating thing about this whole mess was that it wasn’t even an unpleasant distraction. He _liked_ thinking about Annette. He _liked_ her songs. He _liked_ the way she mumbled to herself while she studied, and how her nose crinkled every time she was annoyed with him. No, it wasn’t the thoughts of Annette that were making him irritable, it was the fact that they were derived from a place within him that he wasn’t familiar with. It made him feel vulnerable and that vulnerability felt like a chink in the armor of indifference he’d spent years carefully crafting.

And so the evening passed with Felix trying not to think about Annette which kept him even more unsociable than usual. It was a good thing Dorothea and her musically inclined friends were there or Felix probably wouldn’t have made any tips at all. Of course, he would have given up the bucket entirely if it would have made Dorothea stop grinning at him—a grin that was somehow both conspiratorial and isolating; like they were partners in a scheme but only Dorothea knew the directive. 

Felix glanced up as the music ended and accidentally caught Dorothea's eye. Immediately, he tried to busy himself with the drinks in front of him. He did not look up as the sound of stilettos on wood drew near, hoping she would pass him by for one of the countless individuals actually seeking her attention.

“Felix?”

Felix poured liquor into the cocktail shaker, mixing it extra vigorously in a poor attempt to drown Dorothea out.

“Felix.”

Felix pulled two cups from beneath the counter and poured the mix inside, making sure the ice cubes clinked together extra loudly.

“Felix!”

“What!?” he snapped, glaring at Dorothea and shoving the beverages toward the waiting customers. They grabbed them and scurried away, clearly put off by his less than friendly demeanor. Dorothea’s perfect eyebrows rose.

“So, you can hear me. And here I was thinking your ears might just be for decoration,” she commented, a little too innocently.

“They work,” Felix responded. “Unfortunately.”

Dorothea actually smiled at this which was not the effect Felix had been going for.

“As sociable as ever, aren’t we?” she asked. Felix decided to take this as a rhetorical question which, for all intents and purposes, it was. She shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep this short.”

Felix watched her, unable to stifle the blossom of curiosity that bloomed in his gut as she reached into her purse and withdrew two pieces of decorated cardstock.

“The Mittelfrank Opera Company is hosting a pre-performance gala for our sponsors, family, and close friends. I’ve already given Ingrid and Sylvain their invitations and now I’m giving you yours,” Dorothea told him.

Felix frowned. “I don’t like parties.”

Dorothea gasped dramatically. “Really? Felix, I had no idea!” she exclaimed. Felix glared at her and crossed his arms. “Just think about it, okay?” Dorothea continued, setting the invitations on the bar. “I’d love to see you there.” When Felix still said nothing Dorothea sighed, her shoulders slumping the slightest amount. “Well, have a good night, Felix.”

She stepped away from the counter. 

“You gave me two invitations.”

Dorothea paused and turned back to him.

“Hm?”

Felix nodded at the cardstock. “There are two invitations here,” he said. Dorothea’s lips curled into a mischievous smile and Felix instantly regretted saying anything at all.

“Yes well, as you know, Sylvain told me about your…friend. The second invitation is for her. I trust you’ll at least see that _she_ gets it, whether _you_ decide to come or not.”

Dorothea had the audacity to wink at him before she turned, fluttered her fingers in farewell, and followed the rest of her friends out the door.

It took all of three seconds for Sylvain to materialize beside him. “Two invitations, huh?” he asked, gesturing to the cardstock on the counter. Felix scooped them up and immediately shoved them into Sylvain’s chest.

“You take them. I don’t want them,” he muttered.

Sylvain shook his head. “That’s not really your decision to make. One of those belongs to Annette.”

Felix scowled. “Then just take mine!”

“No can do,” Sylvain responded, raising both his hands in the air. “You know I’m not one to support your anti-social habits.”

“Come on, Felix. It will be fun,” Ingrid spoke up. Apparently, she’d overheard the little exchange. Felix’s scowl deepened. It was rarely good for him when both Ingrid _and_ Sylvain agreed on something. He cast a desperate glance up and down the bar but no one seemed to need a drink and he still had one more hour until his shift was over.

“Don’t you want to see Annette all dolled up?” Sylvain asked. “I’ll be she cleans up well!”

“Shut up!” Felix snapped, at the same time Ingrid hissed “Sylvain!”

“I’m just saying,” Sylvain continued, nonplussed. “It would be a shame to not even ask her.”

Felix glowered at him. “What do you mean ‘ask her?’”

Sylvain’s eyebrows rose. “Come on buddy. Even you can’t be that dense,” he said, the insufferable smirk back on his face.

“Want to run that by me again?” Felix growled.

“He means ask Annette to the gala,” Ingrid cut in placatingly, stepping forward before Felix could fulfill his dream of throttling Sylvain. “And he has a point.”

Sylvain turned watery eyes to Ingrid. “Did you just agree with me, Ingrid?” he asked incredulously. “I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t,” Ingrid countered, expertly palming Sylvain’s face before he could carry through with his ‘threat.’

Felix ignored all this. “Why would I ask her to go? Isn’t that the point of the invitation?” He waved the card back and forth in the air.

Ingrid sighed exasperatedly, still palming Sylvain’s face. “You know you’re being infuriating, right?”

“You ashk her becaush you _like_ her Felixsh,” Sylvain said, his voice muffled by Ingrid’s hand. Unfortunately, Felix still understood every word.

“I’m going on break,” he muttered, turning away. 

“Wha—but Felix!? You’re done in an hour!”

Ingrid’s protest followed him as he strode toward the backroom. He responded by snapping the swinging door closed, childishly wishing it could slam. Five seconds later he was through the backdoor and out into the small employee parking lot.

It was a brisk night and for a moment Felix thought longingly of the jacket he’d left hanging uselessly in the closet. But it didn’t matter. He had grown up in weather like this. The chill was nothing he couldn’t handle. Besides, he was only going to be out here long enough for Sylvain to get distracted by the next doe-eyed girl that asked for a long island. Yet it had hardly been five minutes when the backdoor opened again, this time admitting Ingrid. Felix glanced at her, scowled, and looked away.

“I’m fine,” he said, answering the question before she could ask it. “Go back inside. I don’t need to talk.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ingrid responded, stepping into his peripherals. “I’m only here to give you your jacket. I saw you didn’t take it and I thought you might be cold.” She held the coat out to him.

“I’m not,” Felix lied, but he took it anyway. “Thanks.” He slid his arms into the sleeves and waited for Ingrid to leave. When she didn’t immediately do so, he tried to help her along. “You left Sylvain by himself in there? That was brave.”

Ingrid snorted. “Technically _we_ left Sylvain by himself,” she corrected, gently chiding. “You left first, remember?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He braced himself for the inevitable lecture, only to be surprised when it didn’t come. When Ingrid did speak, it wasn’t to reprimand him.

“I’m glad you met Annette, you know,” she said quietly. “You’ve been so closed off ever since Glenn… I mean… And then Dimitri left.”

The silence felt heavy around them, weighted with the ghosts of those two names.

“What’s your point?” Felix finally asked when he could bear the silence no longer.

“I’m not sure myself,” Ingrid replied. “I guess it was just nice to see you smiling around someone who wasn’t me or Sylvain.” Felix said nothing. He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at expressing his emotions with words—or anything else for that matter. Ingrid turned to him. “Just ask Annette to the gala, Felix, and then show up yourself. You owe me remember?”

“For what?” Felix asked shortly. This was a precarious question as the two had been friends for so long that Felix probably owed her for countless amounts of things he’d forgotten about. Inquiring after them was about as wise as tapdancing on thin ice. Ingrid pinned him with a look, doubtless thinking along the same lines. 

“You skipped out on decorating yesterday. I had to do most of the work on my own,” she said.

“Sylvain was there,” Felix retorted stubbornly.

“I promise I would have been done sooner without him,” Ingrid replied, planting her foot in that way she did when she knew she’d won an argument. Felix closed his mouth, her point irrefutable. Sighing, he looked away, fisting his hands against the brisk night air.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled, ignoring the smile that unfurled across Ingrid’s face like a sail in the breeze. She knew this was his way of admitting defeat.

“Good,” she responded. “If you want her number, you can get it from Sylvain.”

Felix’s train of thought screeched to a stop.

“What!?” he spluttered. “Why does _he_ have it?”

If Ingrid was amused by his reaction she didn’t let on. Instead, she simply shrugged as if she hadn’t just relayed disastrous information. “He got it when you went to Capers. Just in case something happened and you all got separated,” she told him. “Not a bad idea actually, considering how the night ended.”

Felix was hardly listening. “Yeah, I’ll bet that’s why,” he muttered sarcastically, glaring at the ground as though it too had had the gall to ask for Annette’s number.

It did seem odd that after everything that had transpired between them, he still didn’t have her number. Would it be weird to text her if she hadn’t given it to him in the first place? He didn’t want to come off as creepy. Maybe he should just ask for it the next time she came into Rodrigue’s. On the other hand, he didn’t know how long it would take her to feel better. What if he waited too long and she missed the gala entirely? It would be his fault. All because he had been too much of a coward to send a stupid text—

“Felix? Hey, you still in there?”

Felix blinked as Ingrid swam back into view, her inquiry having yanked him from his rapidly spiraling thoughts. Despite the chill, he felt his cheeks flush.

“This conversation is pointless. I’m going back inside. Sylvain’s probably flirted with half the bar by now,” he grumbled, ignoring the smile that Ingrid tried, and failed, to hide.

Fortunately, nothing was on fire when they returned, but one look at the overflowing tip jar proved that Sylvain really had done what Sylvain did best. The rest of the hour flew by, a steady stream of customers keeping them from standing idle for more than a handful of seconds. At five minutes to the hour, Ingrid shot Felix an imploring look from across the floor, nodding pointedly in Sylvain’s direction. Felix grit his teeth, glancing over to where Sylvain was putting yet another dollar in the tip bucket and winking at the girl responsible. Bracing himself, Felix stepped up beside him.

“Sylvain,” he began. The rest of the question immediately lodged itself in his throat.

Sylvain regarded him. “What’s up, buddy?” 

“Uh, you have…um,” Felix tried, but the words refused to leave his mouth, clinging to his tongue like lint to an old sweater.

“Yes?” Sylvain asked. The word left his lips far too slowly, as if he was relishing the taste of it. As if he knew exactly what Felix was about to ask him.

And with that, Felix knew he couldn’t do it.

Asking Sylvain for a girl’s number would be an irrevocable blow to his pride, one that he would never, _ever,_ live down—Sylvain would see to that. Felix would not willingly bring himself to swim in those waters on this, or any other, day. He would simply have to find another way. Maybe he’d avoid the situation entirely and just tape the invitation to Annette’s apartment door, or give it to that overly chipper barista at the Dancing Bean. She’d be able to give it to Annette. That could work.

“You’re both being idiots. Sylvain, give Felix Annette’s phone number.”

Apparently, Ingrid had grown impatient with his stalling.

A minute later—and under Ingrid’s strict supervision—Annette’s digits were tucked safely into Felix’s phone. He had only just pressed the save button when a crash and a startled shriek drew their attention to the other side of the bar. One of the customers had accidentally elbowed her glass off the table and it had shattered all over the floor. Ingrid sighed.

“I’ll get the broom,” she said, shoving off the counter.

The moment her back was turned, Sylvain swiped Felix’s cellphone from his hand.

“Sylvain!” Felix rounded on him as panic spiked in his chest. “What are you doing?”

“A favor,” Sylvain replied. “For you.” To Felix’s horror, Sylvain’s thumbs began to tap across the screen. He had to be texting someone and Felix had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who that someone was. He made a grab for the phone and managed to lock a hand onto Sylvain’s arm, tugging it backward. Sylvain grunted as he pitched sideways, somehow managing to continue typing anyway. Of course he would have laser-like focus when it came to sabotaging Felix, but when that focus was actually needed for something, it was bound to disappear like smoke in the breeze.

“Oops.”

Sylvain’s thumbs suddenly ceased their manic texting and a torrent of alarm coursed through Felix’s veins. He reached for the phone with renewed vigor.

“What do you mean ‘oops?’ What did you do?!” he snapped. This time, Sylvain did not resist as Felix grabbed for the phone, and his fingers closed around it like a drowning man offered a lifeline. Desperately, he scanned the screen. Annette’s name was indeed illuminated at the top, and beneath it, Sylvain had written three words:

**Hey it’s Flex.**

Two heartbeats passed before Felix turned the full brunt of his glower on the man beside him.

“Flex!?” he hissed.

Sylvain lifted his hands, palms out. “No accounting for autocorrect,” he said. “I was going to fix it but—”

“There would be nothing to fix if you weren’t such an insufferable idiot!” Felix interrupted.

“Think of it this way,” Sylvain began, his placating tone doing nothing to ease Felix’s temper. “Now you don’t have to spend hours agonizing over whether or not to actually text Annette. I did the hard work for you! Honestly, you should probably be thanking me.”

Felix knew that Sylvain was joking, but he didn’t particularly care. He shoved the phone into his pocket, well out of reach of any more thieving fingers. “I’m leaving,” he growled. 

Sylvain glanced at the clock. It was five past ten. “I suppose it is that time, isn’t it?” he said. “Have a good night, Felix.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Felix responded, too annoyed to say goodbye to Ingrid as he passed her on his way out the door.

He was still fuming by the time he reached his car and he yanked the door open with a little more force than was necessary. Felix nearly stumbled as it swung outward, momentarily relieved that he hadn’t yanked the handle right off the door—not like that time Dimitri had—

Felix cut that thought off before it could worm any further into his brain. He was in no mood to reminisce over old, useless memories. They were swimming a little too close to the surface that night, Ingrid’s words having tempted them from the depths like sharks to an open wound. Felix scowled and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him and taking a second just to breathe.

Stupid Sylvain. Stupid gala.

He winced as something sharp poked into his side, and frowning, he slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew the invitations. He definitely hadn’t been the one to put them there. Ingrid must have done so when she’d brought him his jacket. The corners of the invitations were slightly bent, no doubt a side-effect of being shoved into his pocket. Unfortunately, their curly lettering was as legible as ever. 

_“Just ask Annette to the gala, Felix. And then show up yourself.”_

Felix tossed the invitations onto the passenger seat, rested his forehead on the steering wheel, and closed his eyes.

His phone buzzed.

For a moment Felix did nothing, wary of Sylvain sending more stupid messages. Yet eventually, curiosity won out and he withdrew the cellphone, cautiously glancing at the name on the screen. Immediately, his stomach twisted.

Annette had texted him back.

…

Annette had most certainly not spent the day thinking about Felix.

She had definitely kept her calm while talking to Mercie about the 'bed incident,’ insisting that Felix was just a friend and that he’d only been sitting where he’d been sitting because her bed had offered a better angle to the television.

Of course, Annette had also told Mercie about why Felix had been in their apartment in the first place, admitting that she had left her room and gone to study despite her friend’s wishes. She would rather deal with Mercie’s scolding than avoid it by telling her an outright lie. And Mercie _had_ scolded her—gently—and then made her promise to rest the following day no matter how much better she was feeling. Annette had agreed, knowing she owed her friend that much at least.

Once this had been established, the conversation had gone right back to Felix.

Mercedes had lingered on minor details like how Felix had skipped work to bring Annette home, how he’d stayed to make her soup—From scratch!—and then proceeded to act as her temporary pillow while Annette had snoozed her way through the movie _she_ had suggested they watch. Annette had stammered and protested through the whole discussion, but it wasn’t until Mercie had suggested the most ridiculous thing that she’d truly turned red in the face:

“I think he likes you, Annie.”

And just like that, all the concentration Annette had harbored for her studies had promptly flown the coop.

Annette had been moving around the apartment all day, trying to find a location that might help to improve her focus. But the couch in the living room gave her too perfect a view of the kitchen where Felix had cooked for her, and the table presented a similar problem. The balcony was far too cold with the brisk fall weather and the moment Mercie had seen her sitting out there she had told Annette to come in, and no, the fact that she was wearing three sweaters was not a valid argument. Now she was sitting on her bed with a massive textbook in her lap, doing her best to ignore the empty space beside her where Felix had sat less than twenty-four hours ago.

_I think he likes you, Annie._

“Whyyyyy!?” Annette burst out, flopping back against a mountain of pillows and throwing her hands over her eyes. As if her dramatics were somehow contagious, the textbook slowly slid off her lap and toppled to the floor, as though it too could no longer handle the weight of life’s problems. The thud it made upon hitting the floor was loud enough to startle Annette’s hands from her eyes. With a groan, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, scooped up the text, and dropped it on her mattress before making a beeline toward the door.

Despite the late hour, Mercie was still awake, sitting atop her bed and reading a hefty romance novel. She glanced up as Annette walked into the room.

“Are you alright, Annie? I heard a thump,” Mercedes said, setting her book on the bedside table and scooting over so Annette could join her on the bed.

“I dropped my textbook,” Annette mumbled. “It’s okay though. It did just as much good on the floor as it did in my lap.” She flopped onto the bed and buried her face in Mercedes’ pillow, her legs hanging awkwardly off the side of the mattress. 

“What’s wrong?” Mercedes asked, patting the girl comfortingly on the back. “Can’t you focus?”

While it was a genuine question, something in Mercedes’ voice told Annette that she already knew the answer. Annette groaned, turning her head to expose Mercie to the full brunt of her pout.

“Why did you have to say he _likes_ me, Mercie? Now he won’t get out of my head!” she whined, not caring that she probably sounded like a child. Mercedes smiled in that way she always did before saying something particularly sage.

“Well, you _are_ still wearing his sweatshirt. It might be less distracting to change into something else,” she suggested. Mercedes managed to keep her tone neutral, but the glimmer in her eyes gave away her amusement. Annette blinked and glanced down at herself—as if Mercie could have confused the cozy circus tent she was wearing for anything else. Her face went back into the pillow.

“Ugh, what is _wrong_ with me?” she wailed, her hands fisting into the blankets.

“Why do you say that, Annie? Is there something wrong with liking Felix?” Mercedes asked.

Annette was silent for a while, mulling over the question and everything it implied. Did she like Felix? Mercie certainly seemed to think so. Annette pressed her lips together, thinking about everything that had happened since the day she’d met him at Rodrigue’s. Their relationship had started a little rocky to be sure, but now… Now she was lying in bed and wearing his sweatshirt, unable to focus on her studies because the villain wouldn’t make room in her mind for anything else.

She _did_ like him. She absolutely liked Felix.

The revelation filled her heart with warmth, as if a small fire had suddenly been brought to life inside her. It snuffed out just as quickly.

“It _is_ a problem, Mercie! I have to go to Garreg Mach! That’s not exactly close. If I get in, will it matter if I like him or not?” she asked quietly.

Mercedes lifted a gentle hand and stroked Annette’s hair away from her face. “That’s not a question I can answer, Annie,” she said quietly. “But…don’t get caught up in thinking too far ahead. One day at a time, okay?”

Annette nodded slowly. “Okay,” she mumbled. “Thanks for listening, Mer—”

Her phone buzzed.

Annette frowned and reached into the sweatshirt’s front pocket, pulling her mobile out. A text from an unknown number flashed across her screen.

**Hey its Flex.**

Annette’s eyebrows rose. “Um…” She turned the device toward Mercie.

“Well that’s interesting,” Mercedes observed, cocking a brow.

“Yeah. Kind of weird,” Annette agreed, tilting the phone as if it might read differently at another angle. “Wrong number?”

“Maybe,” Mercedes responded.

Annette righted the phone again. “Maybe it’s spam? Or some bizarre new gym promotion?”

“It’s kind of an unusual time for advertising though, don’t you think?” Mercedes inquired.

“I guess.” Annette stared curiously at the bizarre message. “Maybe it really is just spam.”

“Hmm.” Mercedes brought a finger to her chin. “Have you given anyone your number recently?”

Annette thought about it. The last person who had received her number was Sylvain, but she was sure she’d added him to her contacts. She was struck by a sudden thought, one that made her sit bolt upright. 

“What? Annie, what is it?” Mercedes asked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden movement.

“Um, I’m probably way off here, but the last person I gave my number to was Sylvain and…well…” Annette trailed off. There was a very high chance that she was jumping to conclusions, drawing up the answers she wanted to see as opposed to ones that were actually likely. But now that the idea had taken root in her brain, she was having a hard time disregarding it.

“You think Sylvain texted you?” Mercedes inquired, nodding at the phone. Annette shook her head.

“No, no. But he _is_ good friends with Felix and…well…Flex and Felix _are_ spelled similarly. Maybe it was a typo?” Annette flushed when Mercedes didn’t answer right away. “Or maybe I’m just totally crazy and should forget I got this text at all,” she mumbled.

“Or text back and find out for sure,” Mercedes replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. Annette’s heart leapt into her throat where it beat with such force that she probably resembled a croaking toad. Nerves and curiosity battled inside her as she stared at the mobile, the words that stared back taunting her indecision. But if it really was Felix, this text meant that he wanted to talk to her, didn’t it? If it was Felix and she ignored him, she would definitely regret it later. Gritting her teeth, she texted a single word response, hitting the send button before she could second guess herself.

**Flex?**

Annette stared at the screen and waited for a response. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. It was only a text, after all, and the odds were good that it wasn’t even Felix’s number. She had probably just responded to some rando and, as a result, was about to get run over with a barrage of nonsense messages.

Her phone buzzed.

Annette squeaked and dropped it.

“Annie?” Mercedes looked at her quizzically. Annette merely pointed to the phone and the words illuminated there:

**Felix. Sylvain stole my phone.**

“I mean, I guessed it might be him but I didn’t think I’d actually be right!” Annette exclaimed, her voice pitching dramatically. “What do I do?”

“Well, you could respond to him,” Mercedes answered patiently. Annette nodded.

“Right! I can do that. I can _definitely_ do that.” She made no move to pick up the phone. “Mercie, what do I say?”

Mercedes hid a giggle behind a strategically placed hand. “‘Hello’ might be a good start,” she suggested. “It is rather late, after all. Maybe he has something important to say that couldn’t wait until morning.”

Annette frowned. “Felix? I doubt it.” She picked up her phone again, staring at the letters with thin lips. “He did say Sylvain stole his phone. Maybe he didn’t mean to text me at all.”

“Hmm, I doubt that’s the case,” Mercedes answered. “Just text him, Annie. What’s the harm?”

Annette gave her a flat look. “The _harm_ is that I could say something stupid and humiliate myself and then Felix will think I’m an idiot and never speak to me again and I’ll be plagued by this text forever and ever! And you know what’s worse?” she asked, waving the phone in the air. “What’s _worse_ is that there will be evidence! Texts don’t just disappear once you send them!”

Mercedes burst out laughing. “Oh, Annie. Just listen to you! I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that!”

Annette stared at her phone and gnawed on her lip, her fingers hovering just over the keypad. She released a breath, long and slow, doing her best to calm her racing heart. Mercedes was right. It was just a text. She had talked to Felix face-to-face plenty of times before! He had even seen her snot-nosed and feverish and still hadn’t been scared away! That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Steeling herself, Annette typed a response:

**That sounds like Sylvain! :P Whats up?**

She hit send, set down her phone, and waited. A few seconds later, it buzzed again.

**Just got off work. I have something for you.**

Annette’s eyebrows rose. Well, that was unexpected. Was this really Felix? Her phone lit up again.

**Its not a big deal.**

Definitely Felix.

“He says he has something for me but it’s not a big deal,” Annette narrated.

“What could it be I wonder?” Mercedes mused.

“I’ll ask.” Annette tucked her tongue between her teeth and typed:

**What is it?**

His response made her squeak and drop the phone again.

**Its annoying to explain over text. Since you’re up I’m just going to drop it off. Your apartments on my way anyway. I’ll text you when I get there.**

“Mercie! He’s coming here! Now!” Annette shot another panicked glance at the phone. “I look like—! My hair isn’t—! I’m not even wearing deodorant!”

“Don’t panic. You have a few minutes at least,” Mercedes responded, far too calmly for what the situation warranted—at least in Annette’s opinion. Annette launched herself off the bed and darted to the bathroom.

“He’s such a villain! How could he just spring this on me!?” she wailed, grabbing her makeup kit and opening it with such force she nearly launched her brushes into the sink.

“Good luck!” Mercedes called from the other room, far too sweetly.

Annette had only just finished applying her eyeliner and lip gloss when her phone vibrated again and two words rolled across the screen:

**I’m here.**

“Really doesn’t waste time, does he?” Annette grumbled to herself, applying deodorant faster than she ever had in her life. “Mercie, he’s here!” she shouted, racing from the bathroom and nearly faceplanting into the wall as she tripped over a lone slipper. She caught herself on the doorframe and poked her head into Mercedes’ room. “Can I borrow your beanie? My hair is a disaster!”

“Of course. It’s on the counter,” Mercedes answered serenely.

“Thank you!” Annette called over her shoulder as she pelted down the hall and thumbed a quick response to Felix.

**A: Onm y way down!!!!!!**

She winced at the typo. Oh well. He’d get the message.

“I’ll be right back!” Annette called as she grabbed the older girl’s fluffy white hat from the countertop and yanked it onto her head.

“Take your time!” Mercedes's words drifted after her as Annette grabbed her keys, slid her shoes on, and careened into the hallway.

It didn’t take long to reach the lobby, the bright lights of a car stalled outside welcoming her as she jogged toward the front doors. It was a brisk night with a pale moon, the lukewarm light spilling from the sky and illuminating Felix as he stepped out of his car. Annette’s heart flip-flopped.

“Hey,” she said, smiling as he approached and hoping she sounded casual. He was holding a colored piece of paper in his hand and Annette glanced at it curiously.

“Hi,” Felix responded before his lips quirked into a smirk. “Nice sweatshirt.”

Annette froze.

She was still wearing his sweatshirt. In her haste, she had completely forgotten to take it off.

Well, at least the cold was no longer an issue. Her face was flaming hot enough to warm her all the way to her toes.

“Y-you can have it back if you want,” she stammered, but Felix stopped her before she could pull it over her head.

“Don’t be an idiot, you’ll freeze.”

He was right. He was right and Annette wanted the ground to open up beneath her and swallow her forever.

“O-okay,” she managed, her tongue feeling much too large for her mouth.

“It looks like a dress on you,” Felix observed, clearly noting the way the material stopped just above her knees. “You sure you won’t get lost in there?”

“Giant sweatshirts are the best!” Annette argued. “They aren’t cozy unless they’re at least two sizes too big!”

“Looks like three in your case,” Felix stated. “At least.”

Annette glared. “You know you’re the worst right?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“I should have mentioned it more.”

Felix smiled and Annette felt her cheeks tingle as a horde of butterflies swooped through her stomach. She suddenly found her toes very interesting.

“You said you had something for me?” she mumbled.

“Oh, right. Here.” Felix held the card he’d been holding out to her and Annette took it with curious fingers. It was clearly an invitation of some sort if the fancy lettering was any indication. Her gaze traveled over the words.

_The Mittelfrank Opera Company cordially invites you to attend our Autumn Gala._

Annette’s eyes widened. “A gala?” she asked, looking at Felix for confirmation. He seemed the last sort of person who would show interest in something like that. To her surprise, he nodded—albeit stiffly.

“Do you remember Dorothea?” he asked. “She was that singer who came into Rodrigue’s the first night you did.” Annette nodded, trying to ignore the irrational warmth she felt that he remembered her first visit so specifically. Or maybe she’d just left that terrible of an impression. It _had_ taken her forever to find her debit card, after all. Most of his customers probably weren’t so inept.

“Mm, hmm,” she responded.

“Well, she invited Ingrid, Sylvain, and I to this thing and wanted you to come too,” he explained. Annette’s nose crinkled in confusion.

“Me?” she asked. “Me specifically?”

“Is that a problem?” Felix asked, raising a brow. “You struck me as the type who would enjoy this sort of flashy nonsense.”

Annette shot him a look. “It’s not that. I’m just wondering why she wanted _me_ there. We’ve never even talked,” she explained. Was it her imagination or did Felix suddenly look uncomfortable? His cheeks certainly seemed rosier, though it was hard to tell in the wan moonlight.

“Does it matter?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. Annette narrowed her eyes. He was definitely hiding something. “Are you going or not?” he persisted before she could ask any more questions.

Annette hid a grin. Flustered Felix was cute too.

“I’ll be there,” she said. “…Will you?”

Felix looked back at her and there was a moment’s hesitation before he slowly nodded. “Yeah.” Annette beamed and she swore the flush on his cheeks darkened. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Get back inside. It’s cold and you’re sick,” he mumbled.

“Not anymore!” she replied, pumping her fists for emphasis. Felix rolled his eyes.

“Even if that were true, which I doubt, my sweatshirt isn’t that warm. I don’t want Mercedes yelling at me if you come down with something else.”

Annette laughed. “Alright,” she said, finally relenting.

Neither of them made a move to walk away.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Annette asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“I do,” Felix answered. “See you then?” The question seemed to surprise him, but he didn’t take back the words. It was Annette’s turn to blush.

“Yes,” she answered. Felix nodded once and cleared his throat.

“Have a good night, Annette.”

“Y-you too.”

Annette watched him round his car and slide into the driver’s seat. She waved as he drove away, his headlights cutting a path through the dark. The moment his car disappeared, Annette turned and bolted back inside, dashing up to her apartment and yanking the door open with such vigor it nearly flew off the hinges.

“Mercie!” she shouted, heedless of the late hour. Mercedes poked her head into the hall.

“Yes?”

“Mercie I’m going to a gala! _With Felix!”_ Annette exclaimed, bringing her hands to her cheeks and nearly poking herself in the eye with the invitation. Mercedes beamed.

“That’s so exciting! I can help with your hair and makeup if you would like,” she offered. Annette nodded profusely.

“I would like that very much! I was—” she suddenly cut herself off, staring at Mercedes as though seeing her for the first time. Her eyes narrowed. “Mercie. Why didn’t you tell me I was still wearing Felix’s sweatshirt?”

Mercedes’s answering smile was the picture of innocence.

“It must have slipped my mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me be the first to say that I am definitely one of those people that bursts out singing at random moments. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay everyone, I do realize that it's been a hot minute since this story was updated. As is probably the case for all of you, life continues to be hectic. Between a full-time job, foot surgery, and zine projects, my little passion project here sometimes has to take a back seat :( That being said, I'm so pumped to give you an update today :) Thank you for your patience and I do hope you all enjoyed it!!
> 
> Speaking of zines, if anyone is interested in checking out the projects I have written pieces for (hence the delay of this chapter), here is a shameless plug :P I will leave the links below!
> 
> [ Garland Moon Zine ](https://twitter.com/garlandmoonzine) A multi-ship, summer themed fan-zine complete with merch! Pre-orders are open until December 15!
> 
> [ Sweet Like Honey: Ferdithea Zine ](https://twitter.com/ferditheazine) A pay-what-you-want Ferdithea zine with all proceeds going to Okra project!! Currently available for purchase/download! 
> 
> [ Long Live Zine ](https://twitter.com/faerghusfour) A Faerghus Four Charity Zine! We are currently still in the creation phase of this one, but keep an eye out for pre-order dates! 
> 
> Come find me on [ twitter! ](https://twitter.com/NightMereBear) Stay safe everyone!! <3


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